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Sft« Sttt4^jettt«' MvUs of ^ttfiltsto ®Xa5sijcs. 



ELAINE. 



BY 



ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 



EDITED ay 

FANNIE MORE McCAULEY, 

Instructor in the English Language and Literature in the 



Winchester School, Baljim^r^ ,1;-.^ 




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BOSTON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO. 



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Copyright, 1894, 
By Leach, Shewell, & Sanborn. 



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PBE68 OF Berwick & Smith. 



PREFACE. 



In preparing " Elaine '^ for the use of students of lit- 
erature^ the editor has not thought it necessary to include 
a formal biographical sketch, but has deemed it sufficient 
to indicate, by means of a full list of references, the 
sources from which all such information can be obtained. 
This list is supplemented by a number of carefully 
chosen comments which have for their theme the poet's 
art, or his personality. The current literature of the 
past year has so abounded in Tennysoniana that the 
student need find no lack of biographical and critical 
material, but will rather experience "the embarrass- 
ment of wealth.'^ In the sketch concerning the Arthu- 
rian legend it was the editor's intention to give, merely 
in outline, something of its literary history for the past 
three centuries, and not at all to treat of the more 
ambitious theme, — the growth and development of the 
Arthurian Saga. 

As the purpose in editing this little volume has been 
to make it suitable and acceptable for use in litera- 



111 



iv PREFACE. 

ture work in high schools, academies, and preparatory 
schools, it has been furnished with somewhat copious 
notes; for experience has taught that ample and well- 
chosen reference libraries are not always a possession 
of secondary schools. 

To familiarize the minds of youth with such an ideal 
type of maidenly purity as is delineated by Tennyson 
in '^ Elaine,'^ must certainly be productive of good ; while 
the artistic excellences of the poem, its beauty of diction, 
and wealth of imagery, render it especially valuable for 
purposes of classroom instruction. It is hoped that 
its study will stimulate a desire to become further 
acquainted with the ^^ Idylls of the King.^' 

F. M. McC. 

Baltimore, December, 1894. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE. 

Chronology 1 

Biographical and Critical Keferences 3 

Critical and Personal Comments 5 

The Arthurian Legend 11 

Elaine 15 

Suggestions for Classroom Study 67 

Introduction to N^otes 71 

Notes on Elaine 73 



CHRONOLOGY. 



1809. Aug. 6. Alfred, Lord Tennyson, was born at Somersby, 
in Lincolnshire, a village of which his father was rector. 

1817. Entered the Louth Grammar School, where he remained 
a few years, after which his preparatory studies were continued 
under the direction of his father. To this period belongs a 
small volume of poems entitled " Poems by Two Brothers.'* It 
is a collection of poems by Alfred Tennyson and his elder 
brother Charles. 

1828. Entered the University of Cambridge, where he won the 
Chancellor's gold medal for a poem on " Timbuctoo." During 
his college days was formed that close friendship with Arthur 
Hallam which is the motif of "In Memoriam." 

1830. "Poems, Chiefly Lyrical." 

1832. Publication of a second volume of poems. 

1842. " Poems by Alfred Tennyson." 2 vols. 

1847. "Thfe Princess." 

1850. " In Memoriam. " 

1850. June 13. Married at Shiplake Church, Oxfordshire, to 
Emily, daughter of Henry Sellwood, Esq. 

1851. Created Poet Laureate. 
1855. "Maud." 

1855. Degree of D. C. L. conferred by Oxford University. 

1859. " The Idylls of the King." 

1864. " Enoch Arden and Other Poems." 

1869-72. " The Holy Grail," " Gareth and Lynette,"- " Pelleas 

and Etarre," "The Last Tournament," "The Passing of 

Arthur." 

1 



2 ALFRED TENNYSON. 

1875. *' Queen Mary." 

1877. "Harold." 

1879. " The Falcon." 

1879. " The Lover's Tale." 

1880. '' Ballads and Other Poems." 

1881. " The Cup." 

1882. " The Promise of May." 
1884. "Becket." 

1884. "Robin Hood." 

1886. "Tiresias and Other Poems." 

1886. " Locksley Hall, Sixty Yeai^g After." 

1890. " Demeter and Other Poems." 

1892. Oct. 6. Died at Aldworth, Surrey, England. 



REFERENCES, 



BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL. 



W. E. Wage. Alfred Tennyson: His Life and Works. 1881. 
Mrs. Anne Thackeray Ritchie. Alfred Tennyson. 1883. 

(Prefixed to Harper's Edition of Tennyson's poems.) 
H. J. Jennings. Lord Tennyson : A Biographical Sketch. 1884. 
E. C. Steadman. The Victorian Poets. 
Peter Bayne. Lessons from My Masters: Carlyle, Ruskin, 

Tennyson. 
Charles Kingsley. Tennyson (vol. xx.). 
W. E. Gladstone. Tennyson. (Gleanings of Past Years.) 
R. W. Emerson. English Traits. 
Edward Dowden. Studies in Literature. 
Walter B age hot.* Wordsworth, Tennyson, and Browning. 

(Literary Studies; vol. ii.) 
George W. Cooke. Tennyson. (Poets and Problems.) 
J. M. Robertson. The Art of Tennyson. 
Henry Yan Dyke. The Poetry of Tennyson.- 
George Brimley. Tennyson's Poems. 
RoDEN Koel. Tennyson. (Essays on Poetry and Poets.) 
R. H. Hutton. Tennyson. (Essays; vol. ii.) 
Matthew Arnold. Essays in Criticism. 
Contemporary Review. Articles in 1873. 
Spectator. January, 1870. 

3 



4 ALFRED TEKKTSON. ' 

Edmund Gosse. Tennyson. (Contemporary Review. London. 
November, 1892. ) 

Kev. Stopford a. Brooke. Tennyson. (New Review. Lon- 
don. November, 1892.) 

Archdeacon F. W. Farrar. Lord Tennyson as a Religious 
Teacher. (Review of Reviews. December, 1892.) 



COMMENTS, CRITICAL AND PERSONAL, 



^ Tennyson's art. 

**It seems to me that the only just estimate of Tennyson's 
position is that which declares him to be, by eminence, the repre- 
sentative poet of the recent era. Not, like one or another of his 
compeers, representative of the melody, wisdom, passion, or 
other partial phase of the era, but of the time itself, with its di- 
verse elements in harmonious conjunction. In his verse he is as 
truly the ' glass of fashion and the mould of form ' of the Vic- 
torian generation in the nineteenth century, as Spenser was of 
the Elizabethan court ; Milton, of the Protectorate ; Pope, of the 
reign of Queen Anne. His poetry has gathered all the elements 
which find vital expression in the complex modern art. . . . 

*'. . . Tennyson, like Browning, Procter, Arnold, has that 
which Keats was bereft of, and which Wordsworth possessed in 
full measure — the gift of years, and must be judged according 
to his fortune. In mental ability he comes near to the greatest 
of the five, and in synthetic grasp surpasses them all. Arnold's 
thought is wholly included in Tennyson ; if you miss Browning's 
psychology, you find a more varied analysis, qualified by a wise 
restraint. His intellectual growth has steadily progressed, and 
is reflected in the nature of his successive poems. . . . 

*'We come at last to Tennyson's master-work, so recently 
brought to a completion after the labor of twenty years, — dur- 
ing which period the separate ' Idylls of the King ' had appeared 
from time to time. ... I hardly think that the poet at first 

6 



6 ALFRED TENNYSON. 

expected to compose an epic. It has grown insensibly, under 
the hands of one man who has given it the best years of his life^ 

— but somewhat as Wolf conceives the Homeric poems to have 
grown, chant by chant, until the time came for the whole to be 
welded together in heroic form. Here we have a series of idylls, 
like the tapestry-work illustrations of a romance, scene after 
scene, with much change of actors and emotions, yet all leading 
to one tragic close. It is the epic of chivalry, — the Christian 
ideal of chivalry which we have deduced from a barbaric source, 

— our conception of what knighthood should be, rather than 
what it really was ; but so skilfully wrought of high imaginings, 
faery spells, fantastic legends, and mediaeval splendors, that the 
whole work, suffused with the Tennysonian glamour of golden 
mist, seems like a chronicle illuminated by saintly hands, and 
often blazes with light like that which flashed from the holy 
wizard's book when the covers were unclasped. ... To my 
mind, there is a marked difference in style between the original 
and later portions of this work. Nor do I think the later idylls 
equal to those four which first were issued in one volume. . . . 
' Elaine ' still remains, for pathetic sweetness and absolute 
beauty of narrative and rhythm, dearest to the heart of maiden, 
youth, or sage. . . . 

*' We find in Alfred Tennyson the true poetic irritability, a 
sensitiveness increased by his secluded life ; we perceive him to 
be the most faultless of modern poets in technical execution, but 
one whose verse is more remarkable for artistic perfection than 
for dramatic action and inspired fervor; in thought resembling 
Wordsworth, in art instructed by Keats, but rejecting the passion 
of Byron, or having nothing in his nature that aspires to it; 
finally, an artist so perfect in a widely extended range, that 
nothing of his work can be spared, and, in this respect, approach- 
ing Horace, and outvying Pope; certainly to be regarded, in 
time to come, as, all in all, the fullest representative of the re- 
fined, speculative, complex Victorian age." 

E. C. Steadman. 



COMMENTS, CRITICAL AND' PERSONAL, 



TENNYSON^S DICTION. 

" To describe his command of language by any ordinary terms 
expressive of fluency and force would be to convey an idea both 
inadequate and erroneous. It is not only that he knows every 
word in the language suited to express his every idea; he can 
select with the ease of magic the word that, above all others, is 
best for his purpose ; nor is it that he can at once summon to 
his aid the best word the language affords; with an art which 
Shakespeare never scrupled to apply, he combines old words into 
new epithets, he daringly mingles all colors to bring out tints 
that never were on sea or shore. His words gleam like pearls 
and opals, like rubies and emeralds. He must have been born 
with an ear for verbal sounds, an instinctive appreciation of the 
beautiful and delicate in words, hardly ever equalled. No Eng- 
lish poet since Milton can keep the lists against Tennyson as a 

master of language." 

° Peter Bayne. 

"Tennyson is endowed precisely in points where Wordsworth 

wanted. There is no finer ear, nor more command of the keys 

of language." 

Ralph Waldo Emerson. 

" The public is indebted to Tennyson for a restoration of pre- 
cious Saxon words too long forgotten, which, we trust, will here- 
after maintain their ground. He is a purifier of our tongue; a 
resistant to the novelties of slang and affectation intruded upon 
our literature by the mixture of races and the extension of Eng- 
lish-speaking colonies to every clime and continent in the world." 

E. C. Steadman. 



TENNYSON AS A RELIGIOUS TEACHER. 

"Whether his hero be taken from mythology, like Tithonus 
or Tiresias; or from classic paganism, like Ulysses or Lucretius; 
or from mediaeval legend, like Godiva or the Arthurian Idylls; or 



8 ALFRED TENNYSON, 

from modern life, like the Gardener's Daughter, or the poor fish- 
erman, Enoch Arden, or the poor city clerk in ^ Sea Dreams;' or 
from modern heroism, like Sir Richard Grenville, or ' The Siege 
of Lucknow,' or 'The Charge of the Light Brigade,' — in all and 
every mood he never forgets that ' God made man in his own 
image, after his likeness; in the image of God created he him.' 
We thank God with all our hearts that, as his poems were all 
meant 'to add ardor to virtue and confidence to truth,' so they 
all promote the cause of religion pure and undefiled." 

Archdeacon Farrar. 

Tennyson's influence in America. 

'' However difficult it may be to indicate with definiteness the 
extent of Tennyson's popular influence in this country, there is 
no such difficulty in discovering his influence on later American 
poets. On the poets of his own generation — Emerson, Holmes, 
Longfellow, Bryant, Whittier, and Lowell — his impression was 
stimulating, but it was in no sense directive or controlling. They 
were independent of him; but their successors are revealing the 
force of his artistic impulse even more than their English fellow- 
craftsmen. In his lecture on ' The Poetic Principle,' published 
after his death in the year made memorable by the appearance of 
' In Memoriam,' Poe says of Tennyson : ' In perfect sincerity I 
regard him as the noblest poet that ever lived.' Mr. Steadman 
is more critical and discriminating; but no one has done more to 
bring out clearly the supremacy of Tennyson among the poets of 
his time or to indicate the basis of that supremacy in the art 
quality of his work. Mr. Aldrich has hailed him as master; and 
the exquisite art of his own verse, while in no sense imitative, 
bears witness to the presence of this magical influence. 

" The influence of Tennyson on the men of his craft in this 
country is too directly and powerfully felt at this moment; but 
even in excess it has great redeeming qualities, for it carries 
with it a noble fidelity to art and a noble conscientiousness in its 

P^^^^^^^*" HAMILTON W. MABIE. 



COMMENTS, CRITICAL AND PERSONAL. 9 



TENNYSOJSr, THE MAN. 

" Tennyson is one of the finest-looking men in the world. A 
great shock of rough, dusty-dark hair; bright, laughing hazel 
eyes; massive aquiline face, most massive, yet most delicate; of 
sallow-brown complexion, almost Indian-looking; clothes cyni- 
cally loose, free and easy; smokes infinite tobacco. His voice 
musical, metallic — fit for loud laughter and piercing wail, and all 
that may lie between speech and speculation free and plenteous; 
I do not meet in these last decades such company over a pipe! 

We shall see what he will grow to." 

° Thomas Carlyle. 

'^ Tennyson's reading of his poems is something quite apart 
from all ordinary reading. As he takes up one of his books, and, 
opening it, begins to read, tapping with his finger meanwhile to 
mark the cadence of the flowing lines, you seem to be listening 
to some strange chant, an incantation, to the spell of which you 
instantly succumb. . The familiar lines assume a new shape, flash 
forth all manner of hidden meanings, and have a music of which 
you never dreamt before." 

*' No outsider has the right to dwell upon such a subject; but 

it is at least something to know that Tennyson's wedded life was 

one of no common brightness and sunshine, and that, like not a 

few of our greatest men, he was indebted to his wife for those 

long years of freedom from personal care and trouble which he 

devoted to the service of mankind. In his immortal verse he has 

paid the noblest of all tributes to her love and devotion. It was 

no small part — perhaps, indeed, it formed the larger part of his 

life for half a century." 

Sir Edwin Arnold. 



THE PASSING OF TENNYSON. 

'' The morning rose with almost unearthly splendor over the 
hills and valleys about Aldworth House, where Tennyson lay 
dying. 



10 ALFRED TENNYSON.- 

*' Lord Tennyson woke ever and again out of the painless 
dreamy state into which he had fallen, and looked out into the 
silence and the sunlight. 

" In the afternoon, in one of his waking moments, during 
which he was always perfectly conscious, he asked for his Shake- 
speare, and with his own hands turned the leaves till he had 
found ' Cymheline.' His eyes were fixed on the pages, hut 
whether and how much he read no one will ever know, for again 
he lay in dream or slumher, or let his eyes rest on the scene 
outside. 

'* As the day advanced a change came over the scene. Slowly 
the sun went down, and the hlue died out of the sky. All nature 
seemed to be watching, waiting. 

*' Then the stars came out and looked in at the big mullioned 
window, and at last the moon sailed slowly up and flooded the 
room with golden light. The bed on which Lord Tennyson lay, 
with his left hand still resting on his Shakespeare, was in deep 
darkness, the rest of the room lit up with the glory of the night, 
which poured in through the uncurtained windows. And thus, 
without pain, without a struggle, the greatest of England's poets 
passed away." Pall Mall Gazette. 



THE ARTHURIAN LEGEND. 



Whether King Arthur, the hero of the romancers and poets of 
the Middle Ages, ever had a veritable existence, or was other than 
a creation of folk-song or legend, seems to have been a matter 
for question ever since Geoffrey of Monmouth linked together 
the legends concerning him into a rather apocryphal history. 

In his preface to the "Morted' Arthur," Caxton says: *' Divers 
men hold opinion that there was no such Arthur, and that all 
such books as been made of him be but feigned and fables." 
Milton voiced the lack of faith of his age thus: '^ But who Arthur 
was, and whether any such reigned in Britain, hath been doubted 
heretofore, and may again with good reason." Deterred by this 
historical uncertainty, he abandoned his previous thought of 
making King Arthur the hero of a great epic, and rejected the 
subject of the Round Table in favor of " Paradise Lost." 

Modern investigators, however, seem to have determined that 
early in the sixth century there was a British prince named Arthur. 
The Encyclopaedia Britannica tells us that he was '^Guledig or 
Dux Bellorum of the Northern Cymry of Cumbria and Strathclyde 
against the encroaching Saxons of the east coast (Bernicia), and 
the Picts and Scots from beyond the forth and Clyde." Not 
much besides seems to be definitely known of him, but myth and 
legend have amply supplemented these meagre details. 

When later on the Celts fled before the victorious Saxons to the 
fastnesses of the Welsh hills, and to Brittany, " the country by 
the sea," the memory of their ancient glory was kept alive by Welsh 
tale and Breton lay, which found most frequently their motive 
in the real or fictitious exploits of their great war-leader. 

11 



12 ALFRED TENNYSON. 

Somewhat less than a hundred years after the Korman Con- 
quest, a monk living on the borders of Wales, Geoffrey of Mon- 
mouth by name, embodied these stories of King Arthur and his 
Bound Table, in his Latin " Historia Britonum." This he pro- 
fessed was a translation of " A very ancient book in the British 
tongue, which related the actions of them all, from Brutus, the 
first king of the Britons, down to Cadwaladyr, the son of Cadwal- 
low." As a history, Geoffrey of Monmouth's book has but little 
value : it has come to be regarded generally as only an expan- 
sion and clever putting of a number of Welsh legends ; but it was 
an epoch-making book for all that, for it was the beginning of 
story-telling in England. 

When next we hear of the Arthurian story eight years have 
passed away. It has now crossed the Channel, entered France, 
and is told in metrical form, and in the Norman French tongue, by 
one Wace, a teacher at Caen in Normandy. Back again it drifts 
to England ; and this French form falling into the hands of Laya- 
mon, an English priest, he turns it into English verse, and thus 
becomes the writer of the first English poem after the Conquest. 

Thus augmented and developed by the different hands through 
which it passes, the story of King Arthur and his knights slowly 
takes the form of a homogeneous epic ; and about the end of the 
twelfth century, the Oxford Archdeacon, Walter Map, or Mapes, 
gives the finishing touch by adding a religious element in the form 
of a Christianized version of the Celtic myth of the Holy Grail. 

It is not, however, until more than a hundred years later that 
we come to the true source of the Tennysonian Idylls. This is 
the *' Morte d' Arthur " of Sir Thomas Malory, or Malore, an Eng- 
lish knight, which was printed in 1485 by Caxton, the first 
English printer, and published, it is said, at his instance. This 
book, a genuine storehouse of romance, relates, with great 
minuteness, the story of the birth of Arthur, the foundation of 
the knightly order of the Round Table, the exploits of the 
knights, and, finally, the passing away of the great hero. 

Into this golden mine the poets of succeeding generations have 



THE ARTHUBIAJSr LEGEND. 13 

dug for the precious ore which they afterwards fashioned into 
beautiful creations. Spenser, in his great ideal poem, *' The 
Faerie Queen," makes Prince Arthur the central figure ; and 
the twelve knights of whose warfare the poem treats are the 
various virtues, personified as Arthur's knights. 

Reference has already been made to Milton's contemplated epic; 
while Dryden in his essay on Satire makes mention of a projected 
epic with King A rthur, or the Black Prince, as hero. Subsequently 
he produced a dramatic opera entitled " King Arthur," which gives 
in allegorical form the events of the reign of Charles II. 

Sir Richard Blackmore, a physician, and a voluminous writer 
of poor poetry, is the author of two huge epics: '' Prince Arthur," 
in ten books, and "King xVrthur," in twelve books; but these 
died early, and of their own dulness. 

Sir Walter Scott, than whom, perhaps, no other poet has felt so 
strongly the power of "the legendary lay," frequently touched upon 
the Arthurian themes. He annotated and edited the old romance 
of ' ' Sir Tristrem ; ' ' and in the ' ' Bridal of Triermain ' ' he relates the 
story of the love of Arthur for a fairy princess named Grwendolin. 

Wordsworth puts into verse the story of " Artegal and Eli- 
dure," and his poem, " The Egyptian Maid," is based on another 
of the Arthurian legends ; while his poems on localities contain 
many allusions to these Celtic traditions. 

Coming down to the singers of our own time, we find that many 
of the Victorian poets have put the old wine of Arthurian chivalry 
into new bottles, and yet the vintage has lost none of its rare 
flavor. Matthew Arnold, in his " Tristram and Iseult," has told 
again the old story of Sir Tristrem with great beauty and freshness ; 
while Mr. Morris's " Guinevere," and Mr. Swinburne's " Tristram " 
are among the remarkable poems of the latter-day writers. 

These are some of the Arthurian growths whose roots stretch 
back to "Geoffrey's book, and Maleore's." If, however, the 
poetic maxim, " The thought is his who says it best," can be 
accepted as a fair test of ownership, may we not claim for Ten- 
nyson a proprietary right to the story of Arthur and his knights ? 



14 ALFRED TENNYSON. 

Other writers have taken some one or other of the Round Table 
legends for their theme ; but it remained for Tennyson to produce 
a series of ten Idylls, each embodying a separate episode in the 
story of the knights, but all blending into one harmonious pic- 
ture, for which the "Coming" and the "Passing of Arthur" 
furnish a fitting framework. 

Mr. Steadman pronounces the "Idylls of the King" to be 
"the epic of chivalry — the Christian ideal of chivalry which we 
have deduced from a barbaric source." But the poet's design 
was not merely to bring back again the age of chivalry, nor to 
retouch and restore to freshness the fading portrait of the old 
Celtic hero. He had a deeper purpose. His aim, as expressed 
in the lines entitled "To the Queen," was to impart an inner 
meaning to the old legendary narrative ; to represent symbolically 

" Sense at war with soul 
Rather than that gray king." 

In the "Idylls of the King," side by side with the historical 
narrative runs a mystical allegory. Here we may trace the suc- 
cessive stages of a spiritual warfare in which the principal actor , 
is a noble soul inspired with high ideals, battling bravely against 
the hosts of evil, and struggling ever toward goodness and God. 
The struggle may seem, for the present, to end in failure and 
defeat; but it is no lesson of pessimism that the poet teaches. 

Systems may fail, but God remains. He can " fulfil himself in 
many ways." Arthur may pass, but he shall not die; healed of 
his grievous wound he shall come again, -^ " come again, and 
thrice as fair." 

And so, with the rose tints of a dawming hope flushing the sky, 
the hero fades slowly from our sight, and the stately epic is ended 
— an epic unique in conception ; almost faultless in execution ; 
worthy to be placed by the side of Milton's matchless creation, 
the first great epic of our English literature. 



ELAINE 



ONE OF THE 



IDYLLS OF THE KING. 



Elaine the fair, Elaine the lovable, 
Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat, 
High in her chamber up a tower to the east 
Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot ; 
Which first she placed where morning's earliest ray 
Might strike it, and awake her with the gleam ; 
Then, fearing rust or soilure, fashion'd for it 
A case of silk, and braided thereupon 
All the devices blazon'd on the shield 
In theii: own tinct, and added, of her wit, 10 

A border fantasy of branch and flower. 
And yellow-throated nestling in the nest. 
Nor rested thus content, but day by day. 
Leaving her household and good father, climb'd 
That eastern tower, and, entering, barr'd her door, 
Stript off the case, and read the naked shield, 
Now guess'd a hidden meaning in his arms. 
Now made a pretty history to herself 
Of every dint a sword had beaten in it, 

15 



16 ALFBED TEKNYSON, 

And every scratch a lance had made upon it, 20 

Conjecturing when and where : this cut is fresh; 
That ten years back ; this dealt him at Cserlyle ; 
That at Caerleon ; this at Camelot : 
And ah, God's mercy, what a stroke was there ! 
And here a thrust that might have kilPd, but God 
Broke the strong lance, and roll'd his enemy down, 
And saved him : so she lived in fantasy. 

How came the lily maid by that good shield 
Of Lancelot, she that knew not ev'n his name ? 
He left it with her when he rode to tilt 30 

For the great diamond in the diamond jousts 
Which Arthur had ordain' d, and by that name 
Had named them, since a diamond was the prize. 

For Arthur, long before they crown'd him king. 
Roving the trackless realms of Lyonnesse, 
Had found a glen, gray boulder, and black tarn. 
A horror lived about the tarn, and clave 
Like its own mists to. all the mountain side : 
For here two brothers, one a king, had met. 
And fought together ; but their names were lost. 40 

And each had slain his brother at a blow. 
And down they fell and made the glen abhorr'd : 
And there they lay till all their bones were bleach'd. 
And lichen'd into color witb the crags : 
And he that once was king had on a crown 
Of diamonds, one in front, and four aside. 



ELAINE, 17 

And Arthur came, and laboring up the pass 

All in a misty moonshine, unawares 

Had trodden that crown'd skeleton, and the skull 

Brake from the nape, and from the skull the crown 50 

Eoird into light, and, turning on its rims, 

Fled like a glittering rivulet to the tarn : 

And down the shingly scaur he plunged, and caught, 

And set it on his head, and in his heart 

Heard murmurs, "Lo, thou likewise shalt be king." 

Thereafter, when a king, he had the gems 
Pluck'd from the crown, and show'd them to his 

knights. 
Saying, " These jewels, whereupon I chanced 
Divinely, are the kingdom's, not the king's — 
For public use : henceforward let there be, 60 

Once every year, a joust for one of these : 
For so by nine years' proof we needs must learn 
Which is our mightiest, and ourselves shall grow 
In use of arms and manhood, till we drive 
The heathen, who, some say, shall rule the land 
Hereafter, which God hinder." Thus he spoke : 
And eight years past, eight jousts had been, and 

still 
Had Lancelot won the diamond of the year. 
With purpose to present them to the Queen 
When all were won ; but, meaning all at once 70 

To snare her i*oyal fancy with a boon 
Worth half her realm, had never spoken word. 



18 ALFBEB TENNYSON. 

Now for the central diamond and the last 
And largest, Arthur, holding then his court 
Hard on the river nigh the place which now 
Is this world's hugest, let proclaim a joust 
At Camelot, and when the time drew nigh 
Spake (for she had been sick) to Guinevere, 
'' Are you so sick, my Queen, you cannot move 
To these fair jousts ? '' " Yea, lord,'' she said, " ye know 
it." 80 

^' Then will ye miss," he answer'd, " the great deeds 
Of Lancelot, and his prowess in the lists, 
A sight ye love to look on." And the Queen 
Lifted her eyes, and they dwelt languidly 
On Lancelot, where he stood beside the King. 
He, thinking that he read her meaning there, 
'^ Stay with me, I am sick ; my love is more 
Than many diamonds," yielded ; and a heart. 
Love-loyal to the least wish of the Queen 
(However much he yearn'd to make complete 90 

The tale of diamonds for his destined boon). 
Urged him to speak against the truth, and say, 
'' Sir King, mine ancient wound is hardly whole. 
And lets me from the saddle ; " and the King 
Glanced first at him, then her, and went his way. 
No sooner gone than suddenly she began : 

" To blame, my lord Sir Lancelot, much to blame ! 
Why go ye not to these fair jousts ? the knights 
Are half of them our enemies, and the crowd 



ELAINE, 19 

Will murmur, ^ Lo, the shameless ones, who take lOO 

Their pastime now the trustful king is gone ! ^ '' 

Then Lancelot, vexed at having lied in vain : 

" Are ye so wise ? ye were not once so wise, 

My Queen, that summer, when ye loved me first. 

Then of the crowd ye took no more account 

Than of the myriad cricket of the mead, 

When its own voice clings to each blade of grass, 

And every voice is nothing. As to knights. 

Them surely can I silence with all ease. 

But now my loyal worship is allow'd HO 

Of all men : many a bard, without offence, 

Has link'd our names together in his lay, 

Lancelot, the flower of bravery, Guinevere, 

The pearl of beauty : and our knights at feast 

Have pledged us in this union, while the king 

Would listen smiling. How then ? is there more ? 

Has Arthur spoken aught ? or would yourself. 

Now weary of my service and devoir. 

Henceforth be truer to your faultless lord ? '^ 

She broke into a little scornful laugh. 120 

'^ Arthur, my lord, Arthur, the faultless King, 
That passionate perfection, my good lord — 
But who can gaze upon the sun in heaven ? 
He never spake word of reproach to me. 
He never had a glimpse of mine untruth. 
He cares not for me : only here to-day 
There gleam'd a vague suspicion in his eyes : 
Some meddling rogue has tampered with him — else 



20 ALFRED TENNYSON. 

Eapt in this fancy of his Table Eound^ 

And swearing men to vows impossible, 130 

To make them like himself : but, friend, to me 

He is all fault who hath no fault at all : 

For who loves me must have a touch of earth ; 

The low sun makes the color : I am yours, 

Not Arthur's, as ye know, save by the bond. 

And therefore hear my words : go to the jousts : 

The tiny-trumpeting gnat can break our dream 

When sweetest ; and the vermin voices here 

May buzz so loud — we scorn them, but they sting.'' 

Then answer'd Lancelot, the chief of knights : 140 

" And with what face, after my pretext made. 
Shall I appear, Queen, at Camelot, I 
Before a King who honors his own word, 
As if it were his God's ? " 

'' Yea," said the Queen, 
"A moral child without the craft to rule. 
Else had he not lost me : but listen to me. 
If I must find you wit : we hear it said 
That men go down before your spear at a touch 
But knowing you are Lancelot ; your great name. 
This conquers : hide it, therefore ; go unknown : 150 

Win ! by this kiss you will : and our true King 
Will then allow your pretext, my knight. 
As all for glory ; for, to speak him true. 
Ye know right well, how meek soe'er he seem, 
No keener hunter after glory breathes. 



ELAINE. ' 21 

He loves it in his knights more than himself : 
They prove to him his work : win and return." 

Then got Sir Lancelot suddenly to horse, 
Wroth at himself: not willing to be known, 
He left the barren-beaten thoroughfare, 160 

Chose the green path that show'd the rarer foot. 
And there among the solitary downs. 
Full often lost in fancy, lost his way ; 
Till, as he traced a faintly-shadow'd track. 
That all in loops and links among the dales 
Ean to the Castle of Astolat, he saw 
Fired from the west, far on a hill, the towers. 
Thither he made, and wound the gateway horn. 
Then came an old, dumb, myriad-wrinkled man. 
Who let him into lodging, and disarmed. 170 

And Lancelot marvePd at the wordless man ; 
And, issuing, found the Lord of Astolat 
With two strong sons. Sir Torre and Sir Lavaine, 
Moving to meet him in the castle court ; 
And close behind them stept the lily maid, 
Elaine, his daughter : mother of the house 
There was not : some light jest among them rose 
With laughter dying down as the great knight 
Approached them : then the Lord of Astolat : 
" Whence comest thou, my guest, and by what name 180 
Livest between the lips ? for, by thy state 
And presence, I might guess thee chief of those. 
After the King, who eat in Arthur's halls. 



22 ALFRED TENNYSON. 

Him have I seen : the rest, his Table Eound, 
Known as they are, to me they are unknown.'^ 

Then answer'd Lancelot, the chief of knights : 
^^ Known am I, and of Arthur's hall, and known 
What I by mere mischance have brought, my shield. 
But, since I go to joust, as one unknown. 
At Camelot for the diamond, ask me not. 190 

Hereafter you shall know me — and the shield — 
I pray you lend me one, if such you have, 
Blank, or at least with some device not mine.'' 

Then said the Lord of Astolat, " Here is Torre's : 
Hurt in his first tilt was my son, Sir Torre, 
And so, God wot, his shield is blank enough. 
His ye can have." Then added plain Sir Torre, 
" Yea, since I cannot use it, ye may have it." 
Here laugh'd the father saying, " Fie, Sir Churl, 
Is that an answer for a noble knight ? 200 

Allow him : but Lavaine, my younger here. 
He is so full of lustihood, he will ride. 
Joust for it, and win, and bring it in an hour, 
And set it in this damsel's golden hair. 
To make her thrice as wilful as before." 

" Nay, father, nay, good father, shame me not 
Before this noble knight," said young Lavaine, 
" For nothing. Surely I but play'd on Torre : 
He seem'd so sullen, vext he could not go : 



ELAINE. 23 

A jest, no more : for, knight, the maiden dreamt 210 

That some one put this diamond in her hand, 

And that it was too slippery to be held, 

And slipt, and fell into some pool or stream, 

The castle-well, belike ; and then I said 

That if I went, and if I fought and won it 

(But all was jest and joke among ourselves). 

Then must she keep it safelier. All was jest. 

But, father, give me leave, an if he will. 

To ride to Camelot with this noble knight : 

Win shall I not, but do my best to win : 220 

Young as I am, yet would I do my best." 

^^ So ye will grace me,'' answer'd Lancelot, 
Smiling a moment, '^ with your fellowship 
O'er these waste downs whereon I lost myself. 
Then were I glad of you as guide and friend ; 
And you shall win this diamond — as I hear. 
It is a fair large diamond, — if ye may ; 
And yield it to this maiden, if ye will." 
'' A fair, large diamond," added plain Sir Torre, 
'' Such be for queens and not for simple maids." 230 

Then she, who held her eyes upon the ground, 
Elaine, and heard her name so tost about, 
Flush'd slightly at the slight disparagement 
Before the stranger knight, who, looking at her 
Full courtly, yet not falsely, thus returned : 
^' If what is fair be but for what is fair. 
And only queens are to be counted so, 



24 ALFRED TENNYSON, 

Eash were my judgment, then, who deem this maid 

Might wear as fair a jewel as is on earth, 

Not violating the bond of like to like." 240 

He spoke and ceased : the lily maid Elaine, 
Won by the mellow voice before she look'd, 
Lifted her eyes, and read his lineaments. 
The great and guilty love he bare the Queen, 
In battle with the love he bare his lord. 
Had marr'd his face, and marked it ere his time. 
Another sinning on such heights with one. 
The flower of all the west and all the world, 
Had been the sleeker for it : but in him 
His mood was often like a fiend, and rose 250 

And drove him into wastes and solitudes 
For agony, who was yet a living soul. 
Marr'd as he was, he seemed the goodliest man 
That ever among ladies ate in hall, 
And noblest, when she lifted up her eyes. 
However marr'd, of more than twice her years, 
Seam'd with an ancient swordcut on the cheek. 
And bruised and bronzed, she lifted up her eyes 
And loved him, with that love which was her doom. 

Then the great knight, the darling of the court, 260 
Loved of the loveliest, into that rude hall 
Stept with all grace, and not with half-disdain 
Hid under grace, as in a smaller time, 
But kindly man moving among his kind : 
Whom they with meats and vintage of their best. 



ELAINE, 25 

And talk and minstrel melody entertain'd. 

And much they ask'd of court and Table Round, 

And ever well and readily answered he : 

But Lancelot, when they glanced at Guinevere, 

Suddenly speaking of the wordless man 270 

Heard from the baron that, ten years before, 

The heathen caught, and reft him of his tongue. 

" He learnt and warn'd me of their fierce design 

Against my house, and him they caught and maim'd ; 

But I, my sons, and little daughter fled 

From bonds or death, and dwelt among the woods 

By the great river in a boatman's hut. 

Dull days were those, till our good Arthur broke 

The Pagan yet once more on Badon hill. 

'^ Oh, there, great Lord, doubtless,'' Lavaine said, 
rapt 280 

By all the sweet and sudden passion of youth 
Toward greatness in its elder, '.' you have fought. 
Oh, tell us — for we live apart — you know 
Of Arthur's glorious wars." And Lancelot spoke 
And answer' d him at full, as having been 
With Arthur in the fight which all day long 
Rang by the white mouth of the violent Glem ; 
And in the four wild battles by the shore 
Of Duglas ; that on Bassa ; then the war 
That thunder'd in and out the gloomy skirts 290 

Of Celidon the forest ; and again 
By castle Gurnion, where the glorious King 



26 ALFBEB TENNYSON. 

Had on his cuirass worn our Lady's Head, 

Carved on one emerald, centered in a sun 

Of silver rays, that lightened as he breathed ; 

And at Cserleon had he help'd his lord, 

When the strong neighings of. the wild White Horse 

Set every gilded para^^et shuddering ; 

And up in Agned-Cathregonion too. 

And down the waste sand-shores of Trath Treroit, 300 

Where many a heathen fell ; " And on the mount 

Of Badon I myself beheld the King 

Charge at the head of all his Table Eound, 

And all his legions crying Christ and him. 

And break them ; and I saw him, after, stand 

High on a hea]3 of slain, from spur to plume 

Eed as the rising sun with heathen blood. 

And, seeing me, with a great voice he cried, 

^ They are broken, they are broken,' for the King, 

However mild he seems at home, nor cares ^i^ 

For triumph in our mimic wars, the jousts — 

For, if his own knight cast him down, he laughs, 

Saying his knights are better men than he — 

Yet in this heathen Avar the fire of God 

Pills him : I never saw his like : there lives 

No greater leader." 

While he utter'd this, 
Low to her own heart said the lily maid, 
" Save your great self, fair lord ; " and, when he fell 
From talk of war to traits of pleasantry — 



ELAINE. 27 

Being mirthful lie but in a stately kind, — ^20 

She still took note that when the living smile 

Died from his lips, across him came a cloud 

Of melancholy severe, from which again, 

Whenever, in her hovering to and fro. 

The lily maid had striven to make him cheer. 

There brake a sudden-beaming tenderness 

Of manners and of nature : and she thought 

That all was nature, all, perchance, for her. 

And all that night long his face before her lived. 

As when a painter, poring on a face, 330 

Divinely thro' all hindrance finds the man 

Behind it, and so paints him that his face. 

The shape and color of a mind and life. 

Lives for his children, ever at its best 

And fullest ; so the face before her lived. 

Dark-splendid, speaking in the silence, full 

Of noble things, and held her from her sleep. 

Till rathe she rose, half-cheated in the thought 

She needs must bid farewell to sweet Lavaine. 

First as in fear, step after step, she stole 340 

Down the long tower-stairs, hesitating : 

Anon, she heard Sir Lancelot cry in the court, 

" This shield, my friend, where is it ? '^ and Lavaine 

Past inward, as she came from out the tower. 

There to his proud horse Lancelot turn'd, and smooth' d 

The glossy shoulder, humming to himself. 

Half-envious of the flattering hand, she drew 

Nearer and stood. He look'd, and more amazed 



28 ALFRED TENNYSON, 

Than if seven men had set upon him, saw 

The maiden standing in the dewy light. 350 

He had not dreamed she was so beautiful. 

Then came on him a sort of sacred fear, 

For silent, tho' he greeted her, she stood 

Rapt on his face as if it were a God's. 

Suddenly flashed on her a wild desire 

That he should wear her favor at the tilt. 

She braved a riotous heart in asking for it. 

" Eair lord, whose name I know not — noble it is, 

I well believe, the noblest — will you wear 

My favor at this tourney ? '' " l^ay," said he, 360 

" Eair lady, since I never yet have worn 

Favor of any lady in the lists. 

Such is my wont, as those who know me know.". 

'' Yea, so," she answer'd ; " then in wearing mine 

Needs must be lesser likelihood, noble lord. 

That those who know should know you." And he turn'd 

Her counsel up and down within his mind. 

And found it true, and answered, '' True, my child. 

Well, I will wear it : fetch it out to me : 

What is it ? " and she told him, " A red sleeve 370 

Broider'd with pearls," and brought it : then he bound 

Her token on his helmet, with a smile 

Saying, '^ I never yet have done so much 

For any maiden living," and the blood 

Sprang to her face and filPd her with delight ; 

But left her all the paler, when Lavaine, 

Returning, brought the yet-unblazon'd shield, 



I 



ELAINE. 29 

His brother's ; which he gave to Lancelot, 

Who parted with his own to fair Elaine ; 

'' Do me this grace, my child, to have my shield 380 

In keeping till I come/' ^^ A grace to me/' 

She answer'd, '' twice to-day. I am your Squire." 

Whereat Lavaine said, laughing, " Lily maid, 

For fear our people call you lily maid 

In earnest, let me bring your color back ; 

Once, twice, and thrice : now get you hence to bed : " 

So kiss'd her, and Sir Lancelot his hand. 

And thus they moved away ; she stay'd a minute, 

Then made a sudden step to the gate, and there — 

Her bright hair blown about the serious face 390 

Yet rosy-kindled with her brother's kiss — 

Paused in the gateway, standing by the shield 

In silence, while she watch'd their arms far-off 

Sparkle, until they dipt below the downs. 

Then to her tower she climb'd, and took the shield. 

There kept it, and so lived in fantasy. 

Meanwhile the two companions past away 

Far o'er the long backs of the bushless downs. 

To where Sir Lancelot knew there lived a knight 

Not far from Camelot, now for forty years 400 

A hermit, who had pray'd, labor'd, and pray'd, 

And, ever laboring, had scoop'd himself, 

In the white rock, a chapel and a hall 

On massive columns, like a shorecliff cave. 

And cells and chambers : all were fair and dry ; 



30 ALFEEI) TENNYSON. 

The green light from the meadows underneath 

Struck up and lived along the milky roofs ; 

And in the meadows tremulous aspen-trees 

And poplars made a noise of falling showers. 

And, thither wending, there that night they bode. 410 

But when the next day broke from underground, 

And shot red fire and shadows thro' the cave, 

They rose, heard mass, broke fast, and rode away : 

Then Lancelot, saying, " Hear, but hold my name 

Hidden, you ride with Lancelot of the Lake,'' 

Abash'd Lavaine, whose instant reverence. 

Dearer to true young hearts than their own praise. 

But left him leave to stammer, '^ Is it indeed ? " 

And after muttering, " The great Lancelot,'' 

At last he got his breath and answer'd, " One, 420 

One have I seen — that other, our liege lord. 

The dread Pendragon, Britain's King of kings, 

Of whom the people talk mysteriously. 

He will be there — then, were I stricken blind 

That minute, I might say that I had seen." 

So spake Lavaine, and, when they reach'd the lists 
By Camelot in the meadow, let his eyes 
Eun thro' the peopled gallery, which half round 
Lay like a rainbow fall'n upon the grass. 
Until they found the clear-faced King, who sat 430 

Eobed in red samite, easily to be known, 
Since to his crown the golden dragon clung. 



ELAINE. 31 

And down his robe the dragon writhed in gold, 

And from the carven-work behind him crept 

Two dragons gilded, sloping down to make 

Arms for his chair, while all the rest of them 

Thro' knots and loops and folds innumerable 

Fled ever thro' the woodwork, till they found 

The new design wherein they lost themselves, 

Yet with all ease, so tender was the work : 440 

And, in the costly canopy o'er him set, 

Blazed the last diamond of the nameless king. 

Then Lancelot answer'd young Lavaine and said, 

'^ Me you call great : mine is the firmer seat. 

The truer lance : but there is many a youth, 

Now crescent, who will come to all I am 

And overcome it ; and in me there dwells 

JSTo greatness, save it be some far-off touch 

Of greatness to know well I am not great : 

There is the man." And Lavaine gaped upon him 450 

As on a thing miraculous, and anon 

The trumpets blew ; and then did either side, 

They that assaiPd, and they that held the lists. 

Set lance in rest, strike spur, suddenly move. 

Meet in the midst, and there so furiously 

Shock, that a man far-off might well perceive, 

If any man that day v/ere left afield. 

The hard earth shake, and a low thunder of arms. 

And Lancelot bode a little, till he saw 

Which were the weaker ; then he hurPd into it 460 

Against the stronger : little need to speak 



32 ALFBEB TENNYSON. 

Of Lancelot in his glory ! King, duke, earl, 
Count, baron — whom he smote he overthrew. 

But in the field were Lancelot's kith and kin. 
Ranged with the Table Eound that held the lists. 
Strong men, and wrathful that a stranger knight 
Should do and almost overdo the deeds 
Of Lancelot ; and one said to the other, '' Lo ! 
What is he ? I do not mean the force alone — 
The grace and versatility of the man. 470 

Is it not Lancelot ? ^' " When has Lancelot worn 
Favor of any lady in the lists ? 
Not such his wont, as we, who know him, know." 
'' How then ? who then ? '' a fury seized them all, 
A fiery family passion for the name 
Of Lancelot, and a glory one with theirs. 
They couch'd their spears and prick' d their steeds and 

thus. 
Their plumes driv'n backward by the wind they made 
In moving all together down upon him 
Pare, as a wild wave in the wide North-sea, 480 

Green-glimmering toward the summit, bears, with all 
Its stormy crests that smoke against the skies, 
Down on a bark, and overbears the bark, 
And him that helms it, so they overbore 
Sir Lancelot and his charger, and a spear, 
Down-glancing, lamed the charger, and a spear, 
Prick'd sharply his own cuirass, and the head 
Pierced thro' his side and there snapt and remained. 



ELAINE. 33 

Then Sir Lavaine did well and worshipfully ; 
He bore a knight of old repute to the earth, 490 

And brought his horse to Lancelot where he lay. 
He up the side, sweating with agony, got, 
But thought to do while he might yet endure. 
And, being lustily holpen by the rest, 
His party, — tho' it seemed half -miracle 
To those he fought with — drave his kith and kin, 
And all the Table Eound that held the lists, 
Back to the barrier ; then the trumpets blew, 
Proclaiming his the prize who wore the sleeve 
Of scarlet, and the pearls ; and all the knights, 500 

His party, cried, " Advance, and take thy prize. 
The diamond ; ^' but he answer'd, " Diamond me 
No diamonds ! for God's love, a little air ! 
Prize me no prizes, for my prize is death ! 
Hence will I, and, I charge you, follow me not.'' 

He spoke, and vanished suddenly from the field 
With young Lavaine into the poplar grove. 
There from his charger down he slid, and sat, 
Gasping to Sir Lavaine, " Draw the lance-head : " 
" Ah, my sweet lord Sir Lancelot," said Lavaine, 510 

" I dread me, if I draw it, ye shall die." 
But he, " I die already with it : draw — 
Draw," — and Lavaine drew, and that other gave 
A marvellous great shriek and ghastly groan, 
And half his blood burst forth, and down he sank 
Por the pure pain, and wholly swoon'd away. 



34 ALFRED TENNYSOK. 

Then came the hermit out and bare him in, 

There stanch'd his wound ; and there, in daily doubt 

Whether to live or die, for many a week. 

Hid from the wide world's rumor by the grove 520 

Of poplars, with their noise of falling showers, 

And ever-tremulous aspen-trees, he lay. 

But on that day when Lancelot fled the lists, 
His party, knights of utmost Xorth and West, 
Lords of waste marches, kings of desolate isles, 
Came round their great Pendragon, saying to him, 
" Lo, Sire, our knight thro' whom we won the day 
Hath gone sore wounded, and hath left his prize 
Untaken, crying that his prize is death." 529 

" Heaven hinder," said the King, " that such an one. 
So great a knight as we have seen to-day — 
He seemed to me another Lancelot, 
Yea, twenty times I thought him Lancelot — 
He must not pass uncared for. Wherefore, rise, 

Gawain, and ride forth and find the knight. 
Wounded and wearied, needs must he be near. 

1 charge you that you get at once to horse. 

And, knights and kings, there breathes not one of you 

Will deem this prize of ours is rashly given : 

His prowess was too wondrous. We will do him 540 

No customary honor : since the knight 

Came not to us, of us to claim the prize. 

Ourselves will send it after. Rise and take 

This diamond and deliver it and return 



ELAINE. 35 

And bring us where he is and how he fares, 
And cease not from your quest until you find.'' 

So saying, from the carven flower above, 
To which it made a restless heart, he took, 
And gave, the diamond : then, from where he sat, 
At Arthur's right, with smiling face arose, 550 

With smiling face and frowning heart, a Prince 
In the mid might and flourish of his May, 
Gawain, surnamed The Courteous, fair and strong, 
And after Lancelot, Tristram, and Geraint, 
And Gareth, a good knight, but therewithal 
Sir Modred's brother, of a crafty house, 
Nor often loyal to his word, and now 
Wroth that the king's command to sally forth 
In quest of whom he knew not made him leave 
The banquet, and concourse of knights and kings. 560 

So all in wrath he got to horse and went ; 
While Arthur to the banquet, dark in mood. 
Past, thinking, " Is it Lancelot who has come, 
Despite the wound he spake of, all for gain 
Of glory, and has added wound to wound. 
And ridd'n away to die ? " So fear'd the King, 
And, after two days' tarriance there, return'd. 
Then, when he saw the Queen, embracing, ask'd, 
" Love, are you yet so sick ? " " Nay, lord," she said. 
'' And where is Lancelot ? " Then the Queen, amazed, 
" Was he not with you ? won he not your prize ? " 571 



36 ALFRED TENNYSON. 

" Nay, but one like him/' " Why that like was he." 

And when the King demanded how she knew, 

Said, " Lord, no sooner had ye parted from iis. 

Than Lancelot told me of a common talk 

That men went down before his spear at a touch 

But knowing he was Lancelot ; his great name 

Conquered : and therefore would he hide his name 

From all men, ev'n the King, and to this end 

Had made the pretext of a hindering wound 580 

That he might joust unknown of all, and learn 

If his old prowess were in aught decayed : 

And added, * Our true Arthur, when he learns, 

Will well allow my pretext, as for gain of purer glory.' '' 

Then replied the King, 
" Far lovelier in our Lancelot had it been. 
In lieu of idly dallying with the truth. 
To have trusted me as he hath trusted you. 
Surely his King and most familiar friend 
Might well have kept his secret. True, indeed, 590 

Albeit I know my knights fantastical, 
So fine a fear in our large Lancelot 
Must needs have moved my laughter : now remains 
But little cause for laughter : his own kin — 
111 news, my Queen, for all who love him, this ! — 
His kith and kin, not knowing, set upon him ; 
So that he went sore wounded from the field : 
Yet good news too : for goodly hopes are mine 
That Lancelot is no more a lonely heart. 



ELAINE. 37 

He wore, against his wont, upon his helm 600 

A sleeve of scarlet, broider'd with great pearls, 
Some gentle maiden's gift." 

^^ Yea, lord,'' she said, 
" Your hopes are mine," and, saying that, she choked, 
And sharply turn'd about to hide her face. 
Past to her chamber, and there flung herself 
Down on the great King's couch, and writhed upon it, 
And clench'd her fingers till they bit the palm. 
And shriek'd out " Traitor " to the unhearing wall, 
Then flash'd into wild tears, and rose again. 
And moved about her palace, proud and pale. 610 

Gawain the while thro' all the region round 
Eode with his diamond, wearied of the quest, 
Touch'd at all points, except the poplar grove. 
And came at last, tho' late, to Astolat. 
Whom, glittering in enamel'd arms, the maid 
Glanced at, and cried, ^^ What news from Camelot, lord? 
What of the knight with the red sleeve ? " '' He 



won." 



" I knew it," she said. " But parted from the jousts 
Hurt in the side," whereat she caught her breath ; 
Thro' her own side she felt the sharp lance go ; 620 

Thereon she smote her hand : well-nigh she swoon'd ; 
And, while he gazed wonderingly at her, came 
The lord of Astolat out, to whom the Prince 
Reported who he was, and on what quest 



38 ALFBEB TENNYSON. 

Sent, that he bore the prize and could not find 
The victor, but had ridden wildly round 
To seek him, and was wearied of the search. 
To whom the lord of Astolat, " Bide with us, 
And ride no longer wildly, noble Prince ! 
Here was the knight, and here he left a shield ; 630 

This will he send or come for : furthermore 
Our son is with him : we shall hear anon. 
Needs must we hear/' To this the courteous Prince 
Accorded with his wonted courtesy, : — 
Courtesy with a touch of traitor in it. 
And stay'd ; and cast his eyes on fair Elaine : 
Where could be found face daintier ? then her shape, — 
Prom forehead down to foot, perfect r— again 
Proni foot to forehead exquisitely turn'd : 
" Well — if I bide, lo ! this wild flower for me ! '' (UO 
And oft they met among the garden yews. 
And there he set himself to play upon her 
With sallying wit, free flashes from a height 
Above her, graces of the court, and songs. 
Sighs, and slow smiles, and golden eloquence. 
And amorous adulation, till the maid 
Eebeird against it, saying to him, " Prince, 
loyal nephew of our noble King, 
Why ask you not to see the shield he left. 
Whence you might learn his name? Why slight your 
King, 650 

And lose the quest he sent you on, and prove 
No surer than our falcon yesterday. 



ELAINE. 39 

Who lost the hern we slipt him at, and went 

To all the winds ? '' ^^ N^ay, by mine head/*' said he, 

'^ I lose it, as we lose the lark in heaven, 

damsel, in the light of your blue eyes : 
But, an ye will it, let me see the shield." 

And when the shield was brought, and Gawain saw 

Sir Lancelot's azure lions, crown'd with gold. 

Ramp in the field, he smote his thigh, and mock'd ; OGO 

'' Right was the King ! our Lancelot ! that true man ! '' 

" And right was I," she answer'd merrily, '^ I, 

Who dream'd my knight the greatest knight of all." 

" And if I dream'd," said Gawain, '^ that you love 

This greatest knight, your pardon ! lo, you know it ! 

Speak therefore : shall I waste myself in vain ? " 

Full simple was her answer, ^' What know I ? 

My brethren have been all my fellowship. 

And I, when often they have talk'd of love, 

Wish'd it had been my mother, for they talk'd, 670 

Meseem'd, of what they knew not ; so myself — 

1 know not if I know what true love is. 
But, if I know, then, if I love not him, 
Methinks there is none other I can love." 

^^ Yea, by God's death," said he, ^^ye love him well, 

But would not, knew ye what all others know. 

And whom he loves." ^^ So be it," cried Elaine, 

And lifted her fair face and moved away : 

But he pursued her, calling, '^ Stay a little ! 

One golden minute's grace : he wore your sleeve : G80 

Would he break faith with one I may not name ? 



40 ALFRED TENNYSON, 

Must our true man change like a leaf at last ? 

Nay — like enough : why then, far be it from me 

To cross our mighty Lancelot in his loves ! 

And, damsel, for I deem you knoAv full well 

Where your great knight is hidden, let me leave 

My quest with you ; the diamond also : here ! 

For, if you love, it will be sweet to give it ; 

And, if he loves, it will be sweet to have it 

From your own hand ; and, whether he love or not, 690 

A diamond is a diamond. Fare you well 

A thousand times ! — a thousand times farewell ! 

Yet, if he love, and his love hold, we two 

May meet at court hereafter : there, I think. 

So 3^ou will learn the courtesies of the court, 

We two shall know each other/' 

Then he gave, 
And slightly kissed the hand to which he gave. 
The diamond, and, all wearied of the quest. 
Leapt on his horse, and, carolling, as he went, 
A true-love ballad, lightly rode away. 700 

Thence to the court he past ; there told the King 
What the King knew, " Sir Lancelot is the knight.'^ 
And added, " Sire, my liege, so much I learnt ; 
But fail'd to find him tho' I rode all round 
The region : but I lighted on the maid 
Whose sleeve he wore ; she loves him ; and to her. 
Deeming our courtesy is the truest law. 



ELAINE, 41 

I gave the diamond : she will render it ; 

For, by mine head, she knows his hiding-place.'^ 

The seldom-frowning King frown'd, and replied, 710 
'' Too courteous truly ! ye shall go no more 
On quest of mine, seeing that ye forget 
Obedience is the courtesy due to kings.'' 

He spake and parted. Wroth, but all in awe, 
For twenty strokes of the blood, without a word, 
Linger'd that other, staring after him ; 
Then shook his hair, strode off, and buzz'd abroad 
About the maid of Astolat and her love. 
All ears were prick'd at once, all tongues were loosed : 
" The maid of Astolat loves Sir Lancelot, 720 

Sir Lancelot loves the maid of Astolat.*' 
Some read the King's face, some the Queen's, and all 
Had marvel what the maid might be ; but most 
Predoom'd her as unworthy. One old dame 
Came suddenly on the Queen with the sharp news. 
She, that had heard the noise of it before. 
But sorrowing Lancelot should have stoop'd so low, 
Marr'd her friend's point with pale tranquillity. 
So ran the tale, like fire about the court. 
Fire in dry stubble a nine days' wonder flared : 730 

Till ev'n the knights at banquet twice or thrice 
Forgot to drink to Lancelot and the Queen ; 
And, pledging Lancelot and the lily maid. 
Smiled at each other, while the Queen, who sat 



42 ALFRED TENNYSOJSr, 

With lips severely placid^ felt tlie knot 
Climb in lier throat, and with her feet unseen 
Crushed the wild passion out against the floor 
Beneath the banquet, where the meats became 
As wormwood, and she hated all who pledged. 

But far away the maid in Astolat, 740 

Her guiltless rival, she that ever kept 
The one-day-seen Sir Lancelot in her heart. 
Crept to her father, while he mused alone. 
Sat on his knee, stroked his gray face and said, 
'^ Father, you call me wilful, and the fault 
Is yours who let me have my will, and now, 
Sweet father, will you let me lose my wits ? " 
'' Nay,^' said he, '^ surely ! " '' Wherefore, let me hence,'' 
She answer'd, '^ and find out our dear Lavaine." 
^' Ye will not lose your wits for dear Lavaine ; 750 

Bide,'' answer'd he : ^' we needs must hear anon 
Of him and of that other." '' Ay," she said, 
" And of that other, for I needs must hence 
And find that other, wheresoe'er he be, 
And with mine OAvn hand give his diamond to him, 
Lest I be found as faithless in the quest 
As yon proud Prince who left the quest to me. 
Sweet father, I behold him in my dreams 
Gaunt as it were the skeleton of himself, 
Death-pale for lack of gentle maiden's aid. 760 

The gentler-born the maiden, the more bound, 
My father, to be sweet and serviceable 



ELAINE. 43 

To noble knights in sickness, as ye know, 

When these have worn their tokens ; let me hence 

I pray you.'^ Then her father, nodding, said, 

^^ Ay, ay, the diamond : wit you well, my child. 

Right fain were I to learn this knight were whole. 

Being our greatest ; yea, and you must give it — 

And sure I think this fruit is hung too high 

For any mouth to gape for save a Queen's — 770 

Nay, I mean nothing : so then, get you gone, 

Being so very wilful you must go.'' 

Lightly, her suit allow'd, she slipt away ; 
And, while she made her ready for her ride, 
Her father's latest word humm'd in her ear, 
" Being so very wilful you must go," 
And changed itself, and echoed in her heart, 
^' Being so very wilful you must die." 
But she was happy enough, and shook it off 
As we shake off the bee that buzzes at us ; 780 

And in her heart she answer'd it and said, 
'' What matter, so I help him back to life ? " 
Then far away, with good Sir Torre for guide. 
Rode o'er the long backs of the bushless downs 
To Camelot, and, before the city-gates. 
Came on her brother with a happy face 
Making a roan horse caper and curvet 
For pleasure all about a field of flowers : 
Whom Avhen she saw, '^ Lavaine," she cried, '' Lavaine, 
How fares my lord Sir Lancelot ? " He, amazed, 7iK) 



44 ALFliJ£D 2i£rWJVr^0iV. 

<* Torre and Elaine ! why here ? Sir Lancelot ! 

How know ye my lord's naine is Lancelot ? " 

But when the maid had told him all her tale, 

Then turuM Sir Torre, and, being in his moods. 

Left them, and under the strango-statued gate, 

AVhere Arthur's wars were rendered mystically, 

Tast up the still rich city to his kin. 

His own far blood, which dwelt at Camelot ; 

And her, Lavaine across the poplar grove 

Led to the caves : there first she saw the casque 800 

Of Lancelot on the wall : her scarlet sleeve, 

Tho' carved and cut, and half the pearls away, 

StreamM from it still ; and in her heart she laugh'd. 

Because he had not loosed it from his helm. 

But meant once more, perchance, to tourney in it. 

And, when they gaiuM the cell in which he slept, 

His battle-writhen arms and mighty hands 

Lay naked on the wolfskin, and a dream 

Of dragging down his enemy made them nuive. 

Then she that saw him lying unsleek, unshorn, 810 

Gaunt as it were the skeleton of himself. 

Uttered a little, tender, dolorous cry. 

The sound, not wonted in a place so still. 

Woke the sick knight; and, while he roUM his eyes 

Yet blank from sleep, she st^arted to him, saying, 

''Your prize, tlu^ diamond sent you by the King:" 

His eyes glisteuM : she fancied, *» Is it for me ? '' 

And, when the maid had told him all the tale 

Of King and Prince, the diamond sent, the quest 




ELAINE. 45 

Assigned to her not worthy of it, she knelt 820 

Full lowly by the corners of his bed, 

And laid the diamond in his open hand. 

Her face was near, and, as we kiss the child 

That does the task assigned, he kiss'd her face. 

At once she slipt like water to the floor. 

*^ Alas,'' he said, ^^ your ride has wearied you. 

Eest must you have." '^ No rest for me," she said ; 

^^ Nay, for near you, fair lord, I am at rest." 

What might she mean by that ? his large, black eyes, 

Yet larger thro' his leanness, dwelt upon her, 830 

Till all her heart's sad secret blazed itself 

In the heart's colors on her simple face ; 

And Lancelot look'd, and was perplext in mind, 

And, being weak in body, said no more ; 

But did not love the color ; woman's love, 

Save one, he not regarded, and so turn'd, 

Sighing, and feign'd a sleep until he slept. 

Then rose Elaine and glided thro' the fields. 
And past beneath the weirdly-sculptured gates 
Far up the dim, rich city to her kin ; 840 

There bode the night : but woke with dawn, and past 
Down thro' the dim, rich city to the fields, 
Thence to the cave : so day by day she past 
In either twilight, ghost-like to and fro 
Gliding, and every day she tended him. 
And likewise many a night : and Lancelot 
Would, tho' he call'd his woTind a little hurt 



46 ALFRED TENJSfTSOK. 

Whereof he should be quickly whole, at times 

Brain-feverous in his heat and agony, seem 

Uncourteous, even he : but the meek maid 850 

Sweetly forbore him ever, being to him 

Meeker than any child to a rough nurse, 

Milder than any mother to a sick child. 

And never woman yet, since man's first fall, 

Did kindlier unto man, but her deep love 

Upbore her ; till the hermit, skill' d in all 

The simples and the science of that time. 

Told him that her fine care had saved his life. 

And the sick man forgot her simple blush, 

Would call her friend and sister, sweet Elaine, 860 

Would listen for her coming, and regret 

Her parting step, and held her tenderly. 

And loved her with all love except the love 

Of man and woman when they love their best. 

Closest, and sweetest, and had died the death 

In any kingly fashion for her sake. 

And, perad venture, had he seen her first, 

She might have made this and that other world 

Another world for the sick man ; but now 

The shackles of an old love straiten'd him, 870 

His honor rooted in dishonor stood. 

And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true. 

Yet the great knight in his mid-sickness made 
EuU many a holy vow and pure resolve. 
These, as but born of sickness, could not live : 



ELAINE, 47 

For, when the blood ran lustier in him again, 

Full often the sweet image of one face, 

Making a treacherous quiet in his heart. 

Dispersed his resolution like a cloud. 

Then, if the maiden, while that ghostly grace 880 

Beam'd on his fancy, spoke, he answered not. 

Or short and coldly, and she knew right well 

What the rough sickness meant, but what this meant 

She knew not, and the sorrow dimmed her sight, 

And drave her ere her time across the fields 

Far into the rich city, where alone 

She murmured, " Vain, in vain : it cannot be, 

He will not love me : how then ? must I die ? ^' 

Then as a little, helpless, innocent bird. 

That has but one plain passage of few notes, 890 

Will sing the simple passage o'er and o'er 

For all an April morning, till the ear 

Wearies to hear it, so the simple maid 

Went half the night, repeating, '' Must I die ? " 

And now to right she turn'd and now to left, 

And found no ease in turning or in rest ; 

And " Him or death," she mutter'd, '^ Death or him," 

Again and like a burthen, " Him or death." 

But when Sir Lancelot's deadly hurt was whole. 
To Astolat returning rode the three. 900 

There, morn by morn, arraying her sweet self 
In that wherein she deem'd she look'd her best. 
She came before Sir Lancelot, for she thought. 



48 ALFBED TENNYSON. 

" If I be loved, these are my festal robes ; 

If not, the victim's flowers before he fall.'' 

And Lancelot ever prest upon the maid 

That she should ask some goodly gift of him 

For her own self or hers ; " And do not shun 

To speak the wish most dear to your true heart ; 

Such service have ye done me that I make 910 

My will of yours, and Prince and Lord am I 

In mine own land, and what I will I can." 

Then like a ghost she lifted up her face. 

But like a ghost without the power to speak. 

And Lancelot saw that she withheld her wish, 

And bode among them yet a little space 

Till he should learn it ; and one morn it chanced 

He found her in among the garden yews. 

And said, ^^ Delay no longer, speak your wish, 

Seeing I must go to-day : " then out she brake, 920 

" Going ? and we shall never see you more. 

And I must die for want of one bold word." 

" Speak: that I live to hear," he said, ^^is yours." 

Then suddenly and passionately she spoke : 

'' I have gone mad. I love you : let me die." 

" Ah, sister," answer'd Lancelot, '' what is this ? " 

And, innocently extending her white arms, 

^^ Your love," she said, ^^your love — to be your wife." 

And Lancelot answer'd, " Had I chos'n to wed, 

I had been wedded earlier, sweet Elaine : 930 

But now there never will be wife of mine." 

" No, no," she cried, '' I care not to be wife, 



ELAINE. 49 

But to be with you still, to see your face, 

To serve you, and to follow you thro' the world." 

And Lancelot answered, " E"ay, the world, the world, 

All ear and eye, with such a stupid heart 

To interpret ear and eye, and such a tongue 

To blare its own interpretation — nay. 

Full ill then should I quit your brother's love. 

And your good father's kindness." And she said, 940 

" Kot to be with you, not to see your face — 

Alas for me, then, my good days are done." 

" Nay, noble maid," he answer'd, " ten times nay ! 

This is not love : but love's first flash in youth, 

Most common : yea I know it of mine own self : 

And you yourself will smile at your own self 

Hereafter, when you yield your flower of life 

To one more fitly yours, not thrice your age : 

And then will I, for true you are and sweet 

Beyond mine old belief in womanhood, 950 

More specially, should your good knight be poor, 

Endow you with broad land and territory. 

Even to the half my realm beyond the seas. 

So that would make you happy ; furthermore, 

Ev'n to the death, as tho' ye were my blood, 

In all your quarrels will I be your knight. 

This will I do, dear damsel, for your sake. 

And more than this I cannot." 

While he spoke 
She neither blush'd nor shook, but deathly-pale 



50 ALFRED TENNYSON, 

Stood grasping what was nearest, then replied, 960 

" Of all this will I nothing ; " and so fell, 
And thus they bore her swooning to her tower. 

Then spake, to whom thro' those black walls of yew 
Their talk had pierced, her father. " Ay a flash, 
I fear me, that will strike my blossom dead. 
Too courteous are you, fair Lord Lancelot. 
I pray you, use some rough discourtesy 
To blunt or break her passion." 

Lancelot said, 
" That were against me : what I can I will ; '^ 
And there that day remained, and toward even 970 

Sent for his shield : full meekly rose the maid, 
Stript off the case, and gave the naked shield ; 
Then, when she heard his horse upon the stones, 
Unclasping, flung the casement back, and look'd 
Down on his helm, from which her sleeve had gone. 
And Lancelot knew the little clinking sound ; 
And she by tact of love was well aware 
That Lancelot knew that she was looking at him. 
And yet he glanced not up, nor waved his hand, 
Nor bade farewell, but sadly rode away. 980 

This was the one discourtesy that he used. 

So in her tower alone the maiden sat : 
His very shield was gone ; only the case. 
Her own poor work, her empty labor, left. 



BLAINE. 61 

But still she heard him^ still his picture form'd 
And grew between her and the pictured wall. 
Then came her father, saying in low tones, 
'' Have comfort/' whom she greeted quietly. 
Then came her brethren, saying, " Peace to thee, 
Sweet sister,'^ whom she answered with all calm. 990 

But, when they left her to herself again. 
Death, like a friend's voice from a distant field 
Approaching thro' the darkness, call'd ; the owls' 
Wailing had power upon her, and she mixt 
Her fancies with the sallow-rifted glooms 
Of evening, and the moanings of the wind. 

And in those days she made a little song. 
And call'd her song " The Song of Love and Death." 
And sang it : sweetly could she make and sing. 

" Sweet is true love tho' given in vain, in vain ; lOOO 

And sweet is death, who puts an end to pain ; 
I know not which is sweeter, no, not I. 

'' Love, art thou sweet ? then bitter death must be : 
Love, thou art bitter ; sweet is death to me. 

Love, if death be sweeter, let me die. 

" Sweet love, that seems not made to fade away, 
Sweet death, that seems to make us loveless clay, 

1 know not which is sweeter, no, not I. 



52 ALFBED TENNYSON. 

'' I fain would follow love, if that could be ; 
I needs must follow death, who calls for me ; 1010 

Gall and I follow, I follow ! let me die/^ 

High with the last line scaled her voice ; and this, 
All in a fiery dawning wild with wind. 
That shook her tower, the brothers heard, and thought 
With shuddering, ^' Hark the Phantom of the house 
That ever shrieks before a death,'' and calPd 
The father, and all three in hurry and fear 
Ean to her, and lo ! the blood-red light of dawn 
Flared on her face, she shrilling, " Let me die ! '' 

As when we dwell upon a word we know, ■ 1020 

Repeating, till the word we know so well 
Becomes a wonder and we know not why, 
So dwelt the father on her face and thought, 
" Is this Elaine ? '' till back the maiden fell, 
Then gave a languid hand to each, and lay, 
Speaking a still good-morrow with her eyes. 
At last she said, '' Sweet brothers, yester night 
I seem'd a curious, little maid again. 
As happy as when we dwelt among the woods. 
And when ye used to take me with the flood 1030 

Up the great river in the boatman's boat. 
Only, ye would not pass beyond the cape 
That has the poplar on it : there ye fixt 
Your limit, oft returning with the tide. 
And yet I cried because ye would not pass 



ELAINE. 53 

Beyond it, and far up the shining flood 

Until we found the palace of the king. 

And yet ye would not ; but this night I dream'd 

That I was all alone upon the flood, 

And then I said, • Now shall I have my will : ' 1040 

And there I woke, but still the wish remained. 

So let me hence that I may pass at last 

Beyond the poplar and far up the flood, 

Until I find the palace of the king. 

There will I enter in among them all, 

And no man there will dare to mock at me ; 

But there the fine Gawain will wonder at me, 

And there the great Sir Lancelot muse at me ; 

Gawain, who bade a thousand farewells to me, 

Lancelot, who coldly went nor bade me one : 1050 

And there the King will know me and my love, 

And there the Queen herself will pity me. 

And all the gentle court will welcome me, 

And after my long voyage I shall rest ! " 

" Peace," said her father, " my child, ye seem 
Light-headed, for what force is yours to go 
So far, being sick ? and wherefore would ye look 
On this proud fellow again, who scorns us all ? " 

Then the rough Torre began to heave and move, 
And bluster into stormy sobs, and say, 1060 

" I never loved him : an I meet with him, 
I care not howsoever great he be. 



64 



ALFRED TENNYSON, 



Then will I strike at him and strike him down. 
Give me good fortune, I will strike him dead, 
For this discomfort he hath done the house.'^ 



To which the gentle sister made reply, 
'^ Fret not yourself, dear brother, nor be wroth, 
Seeing it is no more Sir Lancelot's fault 
Not to love me, than it is mine to love 
Him of all men who seems to me the highest." 
^^ Highest ? " the father answer' d, echoing ^^ highest ? 
(He meant to break the passion in her) " nay. 
Daughter, I know not what you call the highest ; 
But this I know, for all the people know it. 
He loves the Queen, and in an open shame : 
And she returns his love in open shame. 
If this be high, what is it to be low ? " 



1070 



Then spake the lily maid of Astolat, 
'' Sweet father, all too faint and sick am I 
For anger : these are slanders : never yet 
Was noble man but made ignoble talk. 
He makes no friend who never made a foe. 
But now it is my glory to have loved 
One peerless, without stain : so let me pass, 
My father, howsoe'er I seem to you, 
Not all unhappy, having loved God's best 
And greatest, tho' my love had no return : 
Yet, seeing ye desire your child to live. 
Thanks, but ye work against your own desire ; 



1080 



ELAINE, 55 

For, if I could believe the things ye say, 1090 

I should but die the sooner ; wherefore cease, 
Sweet father, and bid call the ghostly man 
Hither, and let me shrive me clean, and die." 

So when the ghostly man had come and gone, 
She with a face, bright as for sin forgiven. 
Besought Lavaine to write, as she devised, 
A letter, word for word ; and, when he ask'd, 
'' Is it for Lancelot, is it for my dear lord ? 
Then will I bear it gladly ; " she replied, 
" For Lancelot and the Queen and all the world, lioo 

But I myself must bear it.'^ Then he wrote 
The letter she devised ; which, being writ 
And folded, " sweet father, tender and true, 
Deny me not," she said — " you never yet 
Denied my fancies — this, however strange, 
My latest : lay the letter in my hand 
A little ere I die, and close the hand 
Upon it ; I shall guard it even in death. 
And when the heat is gone from out my heart, 
Then take the little bed on which I died llio 

For Lancelot's love, and deck it like the Queen's 
For richness, and me also like the Queen 
In all I have of rich, and lay me on it. 
And let there be prepared a chariot-bier 
To take me to the river, and a barge 
Be ready on the river, clothed in black. 
I go in state to court to meet the Queen. 



56 ALFRED TENNYSON, 

There surely I shall speak for mine own self, 

And none of you can speak for me so well. 

And therefore let our dumb, old man alone 1120 

Go with me ; he can steer and row, and he 

Will guide me to that palace, to the doors." 

She ceased : her father promised ; whereupon 
She grew so cheerful that they deem'd her death 
Was rather in the fantasy than the blood. 
But ten slow mornings past, and on the eleventh 
Her father laid the letter in her hand, 
And closed the hand upon it, and she died. 
So that day there was dole in Astolat. 

But when the next sun brake from underground, 1130 
Then, those two brethren slowly, with bent brows, 
Accompanying the sad chariot-bier, 
Past like a shadow through the field, that shone 
Eull-summer, to that stream whereon the barge, 
Paird all its length in blackest samite, lay. 
There sat the lifelong creature of the house. 
Loyal, the dumb old servitor, on deck. 
Winking his eyes, and twisted all his face. 
So those two brethren from the chariot took 
And on the black decks laid her in her bed, 1140 

Set in her hand a lily, o'er her hung 
The silken case with braided blazonings. 
And kiss'd her quiet brows, and saying to her, 
" Sister, farewell for ever," and again. 



ELAINE, 67 

" Farewell, sweet sister/' parted all in tears. 

Then rose the dumb old servitor, and the dead, 

Steer'd by the dumb, went upward with the flood — 

In her right hand the lily, in her left 

The letter — all her bright hair streaming dowii — 

And all the coverlid was cloth of gold 1150 

Drawn to her waist, and she herself in white 

All but her face, and that clear-featured face 

Was lovely, for she did not seem as dead 

But fast asleep, and lay as though she smiled. 

That day Sir Lancelot at the palace craved 
Audience of Guinevere, to give at last 
The price of half a realm, his costly gift. 
Hard-won and hardly won with bruise and blow, 
With deaths of others, and almost his own, — 
The nine-years-f ought-for diamonds : for he saw 1160 
One of her house, and sent him to the Queen 
Bearing his wish, whereto the Queen agreed 
With such and so unmoved a majesty 
She might have seem'd her statue, but that he, 
Low-drooping till he well nigh kiss'd her feet 
For loyal awe, saw with a sidelong eye 
The shadow of a piece of pointed lace. 
In the Queen's shadow, vibrate on the walls, 
And parted, laughing in his courtly heart. 

All in an oriel on the summer side, 1170 

Vine-clad of Arthur's palace toward the stream. 



58 ALFRED TENNYSON. 

They met, and Lancelot, kneeling, uttered, " Queen, 

Lady, my liege, in whom I have my joy, 

Take, what I had not won except for you. 

These jewels, and make me happy, making them 

An armlet for the roundest arm on earth. 

Or necklace for a neck to which the swan's 

Is tawnier than her cygnet's : these are words: 

Your beauty is your beauty, and I sin 

In speaking, yet grant my worship of it 118O 

Words, as we grant grief tears. Such sin in words 

Perchance we both can pardon : but, my Queen, 

I hear of rumors flying through your court. 

Our bond, as not the bond of man and wife, 

Should have in it an absoluter trust 

To make up that defect : let rumors be : 

When did not rumors fly ? these, as I trust 

That you trust me in your own nobleness, 

I may not well believe that you believe." 

While thus he spoke, half-turn'd away, the Queen 1190 
Brake from the vast oriel-embowering vine 
Leaf after leaf, and tore, and cast them off. 
Till all the place whereon she stood was green ; 
Then, when he ceased, in one cold passive hand 
Received at once and laid aside the gems 
There on a table near her, and replied : 

" It may be I am quicker of belief 
Than you believe me. Lancelot of the Lake, 
Our bond is not the bond of man and wife. 



ELAINE, 69 

This good is in it, whatsoe'er of ill, 1200 

It can be broken easier. I for you 

This many a year have done despite and wrong 

To one whom ever in my heart of hearts 

I did acknowledge nobler. What are these ? 

Diamonds for me ? they had been thrice their worth 

Being your gift, had you not lost your own. 

To loyal hearts the value of all gifts 

Must vary as the giver's. Not for me ! 

For her ! for your new fancy. Only this 

Grant me, I pray you: have your joys apart. 1210 

I doubt not that, however changed, you keep 

So much of what is graceful : and myself 

Would shun to break those bonds of courtesy 

In which, as Arthur's queen, I move and rule ; 

So cannot speak my mind. An end to this ! 

A strange one ! yet I take it with Amen. 

So pray you, add my diamonds to her pearls ; 

Deck her with these ; tell her she shines me down ; 

An armlet for an arm to which the Queen's 

Is haggard, or a necklace for a neck 1220 

as much fairer as a faith once fair 

Was richer than these diamonds ! hers, not mine — 

Nay, by the mother of our Lord himself, 

Or hers or mine, mine now to work my will — 

She shall not have them." 

Saying which she seized, 
And, through the casement, standing wide for heat, 



60 ALFIiED TENNYSON. 

Eluiig them, and down they flashed, and smote the stream. 

Then from the smitten snrface flashed, as it were, 

Diamonds to meet them, and they past away. 

Then, while Sir Lancelot leant, in half disgust 1230 

At love, life, all things, on the window ledge. 

Close underneath his eyes, and right across 

AVhere these had fallen, slowly past the barge 

AVhereon the lily maid of Astolat 

Lay smiling, like a star in blackest night. 

But the wild Queen, who saw not, burst away 
To weep and wail in secret ; and the barge. 
On to the palace-doorway sliding, paused. 
There two stood arm\i, and kept the door ; to whom, 
All up the marble stair, tier over tier, 1240 

Were added nuniths that gaped, and eyes that ask'd, 
" What is it ? '' But that oai'smaivs haggard face. 
As haxd and still as is the face that men 
Shape to their fancy's eye from broken rocks 
On some cliff-side, appalFd them, and they said, 
** He is enchanted, cannot speak — and she, 
Look how she sleeps — the Fairy Queen, so fair ! 
Yea, but how paJe ! what are they ? flesh and blood ? 
Or come to take the King to fairy land ? 
For some do hold our Arthur cannot die, 1250 

But that he passes into fairy land." 

While thus they babbled of the King, the King 
Came girt with knights : then turn'd the tongueless man 



ELAINE. ' 61 

From the half-face to the full eye, and rose 

And pointed to the damsel, and the doors. 

So Arthur bade the meek Sir Percivale 

And pure Sir Galahad to uplift the maid ; 

And reverently they bore her into hall. 

Then came the fine Gawain and wonder'd at her. 

And Lancelot later came and mused at her, 1260 

And last the Queen herself and pitied her : 

But Arthur spied the letter in her hand, 

Stoopt, took, brake seal, and read it ; this was all : 

" Most noble lord. Sir Lancelot of the Lake. 
I, sometime calPd the maid of Astolat, 
Come, for you left me taking no farewell. 
Hither to take my last farewell of you. 
I loved you and my love had no return. 
And therefore my true love has been my death. 
And therefore to our lady Guinevere, 1270 

And to all other ladies, I make moan. 
Pray for my soul, and yield me burial. 
Pray for my soul, thou too. Sir Lancelot, 
As thou art a knight peerless.'^ 

Thus he read, 
And, ever in the reading, lords and dames 
Wept, looking often from his face who read 
To hers which lay so silent, and at times 
So touched were they, half-thinking that her lips, 
Who had devised the letter, moved again. 



62 ALFRED TENNYSON. 

Then freely spoke Sir Lancelot to them all ; 1280 

" My lord, liege Arthur^ and all ye that hear, 
Know that for this most gentle maiden's death 
Eight heavy am I ; for good she was and true, 
But loved me with a love beyond all love 
In women, whomsoever I have known. 
Yet to be loved makes not to love again ; 
Not at my years, however it hold in youth. 
I swear by truth and knighthood that I gave 
No cause, not willingly, for such a love : 
To this I call my friends in testimony, 1290 

Her brethren, and her father, who himself 
Besought me to be plain and blunt, and use, 
To break her passion, some discourtesy 
Against my nature : what I could, I did. 
I left her, and I bade her no farewell. 
Though, had I dreamt the damsel would have died, 
I might have put my wits to some rough use. 
And help'd her from herself.'' 

Then said the Queen, 
(Sea was her wrath, yet working after storm) 
" Ye might at least have done her so much grace, 1300 
Fair lord, as would have help'd her from her death." 
He raised his head, their eyes met and hers fell. 
He adding, '' Queen, she would not be content 
Save that I wedded her, which could not be. 
Then might she follow me through the world, she ask'd ; 
It could not be. I told her that her love 
Was but the flash of youth, would darken down 



ELAINE, 63 

To rise hereafter in a stiller flame 

Toward one more worthy of her. Then would I, 

More specially were he she wedded poor, 1310 

Estate them with large land and territory 

In mine own realm beyond the narrow seas, 

To keep them in all joyance ; more than this 

I could not ; this she would not, and she died." 

He pausing, Arthur answered, '' my knight, 
It will be to thy worship, as my knight. 
And mine, as head of all our Table Round, 
To see that she be buried worshipfully." 

So toward that shrine which then in all the realm 
Was richest, Arthur leading, slowly went 1320 

The marshaPd order of their Table Eound, 
And Lancelot sad beyond his wont, to see 
The maiden buried, not as one unknown, 
Nor meanly, but with gorgeous obsequies. 
And mass, and rolling music, like a queen. 
And, when the knights had laid her comely head 
Low in the dust of half-forgotten kings. 
Then Arthur spake among them, " Let her tomb 
Be costly ; and her image thereupon. 
And let the shield of Lancelot at her feet 1330 

Be carven, and her lily in her hand. 
And let the story of her dolorous voyage 
For all true hearts be blazon'd on her tomb 
In letters gold and azure ! '' which was wrought 
Thereafter ; but, when now the lords and dames 



64 ALFEBB TENNYSON. 

And people, from the high door streaming, brake 

Disorderly, as homeward each, the Queen, 

Who mark'd Sir Lancelot where he moved apart, 

Drew near, and sigh'd, in passing, " Lancelot, 

Forgive me ; mine Avas jealousy in love.'' 1340 

He answered with his eyes upon the ground, 

"That is love's curse; pass on, my Queen, forgiven." 

But Arthur, who beheld his cloudy brows, 

Approach'd him, and with full affection flung 

One arm about his neck, and spake and said : 

" Lancelot, my Lancelot, thou in whom I have 
Most love and most affiance, for I know 
What thou hast been in battle by my side. 
And many a time have watched thee at the tilt 
Strike down the lusty and long-practised knight, 1350 
And let the younger and unskill'd go by 
To win his honor and to make his name. 
And loved thy courtesies and thee, a man 
Made to be loved ; but now I would to God, 
For the wild people say wild things of thee. 
Thou couldst have loved this maiden, shaped, it seems, 
By God for thee alone, and from her face. 
If one may judge the living by the dead. 
Delicately pure and marvellously fair. 
Who might have brought thee, now a lonely man, 1360 
Wifeless and heirless, noble issue, sons 
Born to the glory of thy name and fame, 
My knight, the great Sir Lancelot of the Lake." 



ELAINE. 65 

Then answered Lancelot, " Fair she was, my King, 
Pure, as you ever wish your knights to be. 
To doubt her fairness were^to want an eye. 
To doubt her pureness were to want a heart, — 
Yea, to be loved, if what is worthy love 
Could bind him, but free love will not be bound.^' 

" Free love, so bound, were freest,'' said the King. 1370 
" Let love be free ; free love is for the best : 
And, after heaven, on our dull side of death. 
What should be best, if not so pure a love 
Clothed in so pure a loveliness ? yet thee 
She faird to bind, though being, as I think. 
Unbound as yet, and gentle, as I know." 

And Lancelot answer'd nothing, but he went, 
And, at the inrunning of a little brook. 
Sat by the river in a cove, and watch'd 
The high reed wave, and lifted up his eyes 1380 

And saw the barge that brought her, moving down. 
Far-off, a blot upon the stream, and said 
Low in himself, " Ah ! simple heart and sweet. 
Ye loved me, damsel, surely with a love 
Far tenderer than my Queen's. Pray for thy soul ? 
Ay, that will I. Farewell too — now at last — . 
Farewell, fair lily. ' Jealousy in love ? ' 
Not rather dead love's harsh heir, jealous pride ? 
Queen, if I grant the jealousy as of love. 
May not your crescent fear for name and fame 1390 



66 ALFRED TENNYSON, 

Speak, as it waxes, of a love that wanes ? 

Why did the King dwell on my name to me ? 

Mine own name shames me, seeming a reproach, 

Lancelot, whom the Lady of the Lake 

Stole from his mother — as the story runs. 

She chanted snatches of mysterious song 

Heard on the winding waters ; eve and morn 

She kiss'd me saying, ' Thou art fair, my child, 

As a king's son,^ and often in her arms 

She bare me, pacing on the dusky mere. 1400 

Would she had drown'd me in it, where'er it be ! 

For what am I ? what profits me my name 

Of greatest knight ? I fought for it, and have it : 

Pleasure to have it, none ; to lose it, pain ; 

Now grown a part of me : but what use in it ? 

To make men worse by making my sin known ? 

Or sin seem less, the sinner seeming great ? 

Alas for Arthur's greatest knight, a man 

Not after Arthur's heart ! I needs must break 

These bonds that so defame me : not without Hio 

She wills it : would I, if she will'd it ? nay. 

Who knows ? but, if I would not, then may God, 

I pray Him, send a sudden angel down 

To seize me by the hair and bear me far, 

And fling me deep in that forgotten mere. 

Among the tumbled fragments of the hills." 

So groan'd Sir Lancelot in remorseful pain. 
Not knowing he should die a holy man. 



SUGGESTIONS FOR THE CLASSROOM 
STUDY OF AN ENGLISH CLASSIC. 



Since the classes to be instructed in literature will vary in 
intelligence and advancement, it is obvious that no one method 
of teaching even a single selection will be likely to meet the 
needs of all teachers, or of all pupils. Nor is uniformity in the 
method of studying a piece of literature at all desirable. To 
strive to imitate too closely the methods of another is to sacrifice 
individuality — that personal element which is always a very 
valuable aid to success. Bearing in mind the goal to be attained, 
each instructor must select for himself, from among the many 
royal roads to learning which specialists are constantly survey- 
ing, the route by which his own particular grade of pupils can 
travel most swiftlj and safely. ^ 

The following suggestions have had practical testing, and are 
believed to have borne fruit in the awakening, in the minds of 
pupils, of an interest in good literature, and in the quickening of 
an appreciation of '^ the dainties that are bred in a book." How 
much of this method should be followed, or what part of it omit- 
ted, must, of course, depend upon the grade of pupils taught. 

Whenever practicable, it is recommended that, preliminary to 
the classroom study of a selection, the pupils be required to read 
it at home first, in its entirety, reading simply for the story. To 
ascertain whether this preliminary reading has been done, it 
might be well to have the class devote a class period to the repro- 
duction of the story in the form of a simple abstract. 

67 



68 ALFRED TENNYSON. 

The class having thus become familiar with the story, they 
may now proceed with the critical examination of the text. A 
knowledge of the historical, literary, and classical allusions should 
be required, and references to the manners and customs of the 
time should be explained by the pupil. These matters are im- 
portant not merely for the information acquired, but for their 
value in interpreting the main theme. An annotated edition of 
the selection to be studied will furnish, most likely, all needed 
information; if not, a good encyclopaedia and a classical diction- 
ary will supply the lack. ISTow, too, as a means of quickening 
imagination, attention should be directed to the beauty and ap- 
propriateness of the figurative language employed; not accepting 
as sufficient a mere classification of the figure, but requiring, as 
proof of comprehension, that it be expanded — that is, translated 
into its literal form. 

Perhaps no experience of the classroom is more familiar to the 
teacher than that of faulty conceptions of the author's mean- 
ing, due, very often, to careless and inaccm-ate reading. Not un- 
frequently the central thought of the paragraph is completely 
overlooked; while a part is mistaken for the whole, or the con- 
nection between the parts is lost sight of altogether. Mindful 
of some such misapprehensions in the past, one is in danger of 
questioning too closely, thus exhausting both the subject and the 
interest of the pupil. But, guarding against this, oral thought 
interpretation should certainly be frequently required; not only 
as a method of satisfying one's self that what has been read is 
understood, but also as a means of developing facility in oral 
expression. 

Much mirth has been had at the expense of om* forefathers in 
education for the enthusiasm with which they parsed " Paradise 
Lost," and other classics, spoiling them forever, as literature, for 
all the pupils upon whom the method was tried ; but has not the 
pendulum swung too far, if we omit altogether the consideration 
of syntax from our method of classroom study ? ^Vhile verbal 
parsing may not be well, to resolve a sentence into its several 



SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY OF A CLASSIC, 69 

members or clauses, and then to determine their grammatical 
construction, is, frequently, the simplest method of removing 
any misconceptions as to meaning. 

Questions concerning the origin and derivation of words are 
also in place. To trace the history of a word is often to get a 
glimpse of the history of our own great mother-tongue, and, if 
rightly directed, such study is full of interest and profit. If the 
selection to be studied be poetry, the subject of prosody should 
receive some consideration, and the metrical structure of the 
poem should be analyzed. 

With a sufficiently advanced grade of pupils, rhetorical and 
critical analysis may be treated of with more or less detail. To 
note characteristic excellences of style, and the part these con- 
tribute to the final effect produced, is a valuable exercise if con- 
ducted in the true spirit of inquiry — a spirit devoid of petty 
dogmatizing concerning the mere shibboleths of rhetoric. 

No study of a piece of literature is complete that does not, at 
some time, include an inquiry into the life and character of the 
author. Facts of biography, mental and moral characteristics, 
circumstances under which the selection now being considered 
was produced, the influence exerted upon the author by the 
spirit of his time, — these, and kindred themes, if made the sub- 
ject of topical study by the class, will impart a personal interest 
to what has previously been studied somewhat abstractly, and 
will tend to inspire a desire to become acquainted with other 
writings of the author. 

Progressive instructors seem to unite in the judgment that 
the most valuable composition exercises are those which have 
for their basis the literature work of the pupil. Hence it is 
recommended that there should be frequent practice in writing 
abstracts and paraphrases ; and that written outlines of the 
entire plot, or of such portions as contain crisal situations, should 
be required in connection with each selection studied. But in 
combining composition exercises with the study of literature it is 
not necessary that they should take the form of reproductions 



70 ALFEED TENNYSOJSr, 

merely. Topics suggested by the piece of literature under con- 
sideration, even if not drawn directly from it, will furnish fresh 
and interesting subjects for practice in invention. 

But, after all is said concerning methods of instruction, the 
fact remains that nothing can supply the place of personal 
enthusiasm and love of the subject on the part of the instructor. 
Lacking these, methods are but a valley of dry bones waiting the 
animating breath. Only a teacher that himself loves good litera- 
ture can inspire a similar feeling in the minds of his pupils ; but 
such an instructor can scarcely fail to arouse and stimulate lit- 
erary appreciation in others, and will impart, even to immature 
minds, a sense of personal fellowship with that goodly company 
of writers who, for more than twelve centuries, have been in- 
structing and delighting the world. 



INTRODUCTION TO NOTES, 



li I 



Elaine ' is perhaps the most idyllic of the Idyls. Tenny- 
son's power of drawing the characters of simple and lovable 
women is here seen to perfection. It is easy enough to represent 
a woman in whom the elements of good and evil are mingled, or 
in whom the latter predominate — such a character is in no dan- 
ger of being too neutral-tinted or monotonous ; but it is a far 
harder task to depict women like Enid and Elaine, fair, lovable 
beings, with all the charm of purity and goodness, but moving 
steadfastly within the orbit of homely, simple duties, and lack- 
ing the effect of deviation, the contrast of light and shade, that 
we see in the lives of less clear-natured women. In delineating 
these gracious creatures Tennyson stands unrivalled ; and in his 
rare sympathy with such types of womanly purity we may per- 
ceive the almost feminine delicacy of his mind. 

"The outline of the story of Elaine is taken from the eigh- 
teenth book of the Morte D' Arthur, chapters viii. — xxi. ; and the 
poet has followed Malory closely in many passages." 

Harold Littledalb. 



NOTES ON ELAINE. 



Line 2. The lily maid of Astolat. Fair as a lily. Astolat, 
sometimx s called Escalot, seems to be identical with Shalott, the 
island fringed with lilies lying in the river that winds ''down to 
tower'd Camelot." 

The Lady of Shalott and Elaine are the same, although the story 
as told in the Idyll differs from the earlier poem in the matter of 
details. 

4. liancelot, tradition tells us, was a king's son, who was stolen 
from his parents in infancy by a fairy bearing the name. La Dame du 
Lac. The title was derived from her island kingdom ; and Lancelot, 
as her foster-son, received the name, Lancelot du Lac. Lancelot was 
the most valiant and the most famous of the Knights of the Round 
Table, and the great Arthur's favorite. The only blemish on his fair 
fame is, *' the great and guilty love he bare the queen." 

5. Morning's earliest ray. Metonymy : effect for cause. 

7. Soilure. Stain, pollution. Rarely used except in poetry. 
A. S. Sylian, Norman French Souiller, to soil or stain. 

9. Devices blazoned on the shield. Lancelot's coat of arms. 
Blazon is an heraldic term applied to the symbolic figures with which 
a knight was wont to decorate his shield. 

12. Nestling. A young bird. A diminutive made from the verb 
to nestle. Knights usually kept their shields covered, to protect 
them from "rust or soilure;" and no doubt many a fair maiden 
wrought, as did Elaine, a cover for the shield of her chosen knight. 

23. Caerleon. Camelot. ** Caerleon is still to be found by the 
curious traveller, in pleasant Monmouthshire, just upon the borders ; 
and a great amphitheatre among the hills (very likely of Roman ori- 
gin), with green turf upon it, and green hillsides hemming it in, is 
still called King Arthur's Round Table. 

73 



74 TENNYSON. 

'' Camelot is not so easy to trace ; the name will not be found in the 
guide-books; but in Somersetshire, in a little parish called Queen's 
Camel f are the remains of vast entrenchments, said to have belonged 
to the tourney-ground of Camelot." — Donald G. Mitchell. 

27. Fantasy. Fancy. Daydreams. 

35. Lyonnesse. "A fabulous country contiguous to Cornwall. 
There is still extant in the south-west counties of England a tradi- 
tion to the effect that the Scilly Islands were once a part of the main- 
land."— F.J. ROWE. 

36. Tarn. Boulder. Norse words. A tarn is a small lake 
among the mountains. A boulder is a large, round stone. It is 
allied to bellow ^ and is supposed to have received this name on account 
of the noise which the stone makes in rolling. 

44. Lichen'd into color with the crags. Made gray by li- 
chens; flowerless parasites that adhere to stones, wood, or any other 
hard substance. 

53. Shingly Scaur. A precipitous bank covered with coarse 
gravel. Both words are of Norse origin. Shingle is coarse gravel. 
It is said to have received its name from the crunching sound made 
in walking upon it, and is related to Norwegian Singla^ to make a 
singing sound. 

65. The Heathen. The Saxons, who made frequent incursions 
during Arthur's lifetime. The etymology of the word heathen is 
interesting. It is derived from an Anglo-Saxon word which means a 
heath, or desert tract of country ; hence it means a dweller in the 
country or on heaths. Our word pagan is derived in the same way 
from the Latin pagus^ a village. 

71. Boon. A petition, a favor; here used in the same sense as 
the Latin honum. 

76. This world's hugest. London. Let proclaim. An im- 
perative verb-phrase, passive voice. 

91. Tale of diamonds. Tale is used in the sense of a number 
told or counted off. An enumeration. It is derived from A. S. 
tellan. Cf. Gen. xv. 5; Ps. xxii. 17; 1 Chron. ix. 28; " L* Allegro," 
1. 67; " Eve of St. Agnes," 1. 5. 

93. Whole. Healed. Hale, sound, healthy, are cognate words. 

94. Lets. Hinders. A. S. lettan, to hinder, to prevent. 
106. Myriad. Ten thousand. Means here a vast number. 

111. Bard. **A poet and a singer, among the ancient Celts, 



NOTES ON ELAINE, 75 

whose occupation was to compose and sing verses in honor of the 
heroic achievements of princes and brave men." 

Sir Walter Scott. 

129. Table Round. The Knights of the Round Table was an 
order established by King Arthur, and said to derive its name from 
the large round table at which the king and his knights ate. Tradi- 
tion says that there were one hundred and fifty seats at this table, and 
that it was constructed by the Wizard Merlin to imitate the shape of 
the round world. 

Another legend says that the table was constructed in imitation of 
that used by Christ and his disciples at the Last Supper. This was 
said to have thirteen seats, and that the seat originally occupied by 
Christ was always vacant unless occupied by the Holy Grail. 

Arthur's object in founding this order is beautifully described in 
the Idyll of Guinevere. 

130. Swearing men to vows impossible. In ** Gareth," line 
67, Merlin expresses a similar thought. He says : — 

'* Such vows as is a shame 
A man should hot be bound by, yet the which 
No man can keep." 

132-134:. Tennyson, in his poem ** Maud," makes the lover give 
utterance to a similar sentiment: — 

" Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null. 
Dead perfection, no more." 

Guinevere, ever seeking some excuse for her own wrong-doing, 
asserts that the very perfection of the king's character is, indirectly, 
the cause of her alienation from him. Mutual sympathy, she holds, 
can exist only between those who are conscious of common weaknesses. 
She cannot love such " passionate perfection." Arthur is the sun at 
high noon. It is only the rising or the setting sun that gives the 
brilliant hues to clouds. Why ? 

136-139. Guinevere fears that Lancelot's absence from the tour- 
nament may excite injurious comment. While they may affect to 
despise such gossip, it can disturb their peace; for even a tiny gnat 
can break the sweetest dream, 

146. A moral child without the craft to rule, else had he 
not lost me. Again Guinevere would fain find in Arthur's character 
some palliation of her own infidelity. Shakespeare speaks of " Simple 



76 TENNYSON. 

truth miscalled simplicity ; " the erring queen makes just such a mis- 
take. She fails to recognize that it is the inherent truthfulness of the 
king's nature that makes it impossible for him to suspect her of de- 
ception. That he does not attempt to control her, but trusts her 
implicitly, causes her to despise him as "a moral child." Craft is 
not used here in the sense of cunning, but means, rather, art, skill. 

157. They prove to Mm his work. The success of his effort to 
develop a noble order of knights. 

159. Wroth at himself. Feeling a contempt for himself for 
having spoken falsely to the king. 

167. Fired from the west. Illuminated by the setting sun. 

168. Wound the gateway horn. Wound is the preterite of the 
verb wind, to blow; to sound by blowing. This verb is often con- 
founded with another, similar in spelling, but different in meaning. 

181. Ijivest betw^een lips. Equivalent to ^' How do men name 
thee?" 

193. Slank. Having no coat of arms nor device. 

199. Sir Churl. A gentle chiding of Sir Torre for his seeming 
lack of courtesy. A. S. Ceorl, a countryman, a clown. 

213. A premonitory vision. 

244-259. " In the hands of Byron, Lancelot would have been a 
gay and godless Lothario, a brilliant but commonplace man of the 
world; in the hands of Tennyson he is a hero, who, though he has 
swerved from virtue, is at heart as heroic, as deeply in sympathy 
with righteousness and honor, as Arthur himself." — Peter Bayne. 

259. Doom. The original meaning of the word was judgment or 
sentence. Here it is used as a metonymy to signify result ; viz., ruin, 
death. 

266. Minstrel melody. The minstrels of the Middle Ages were 
men who earned a livelihood by the arts of poetry and music, and 
sang to the harp verses composed by themselves or others. See 
bard, line 111. 

279. Pagan. See heathen, line 65. 

279. Badon Hill. This is th^ site of one of the twelve battles 
named by Lancelot in the succeeding hundred lines, which Arthur 
waged against his inveterate enemy, the Saxons. The historian 
Nennius says: ** The twelfth was a most severe contest, when Arthur 
penetrated to the hill of Badon. In this engagement, nine hundred 
and forty fell by his hand alone, no one but the Lord affording him 



NOTES ON ELAINE. 77 

* 

assistance. In all these engagements the Britons were successful. 
For no strength can avail against the will of the Almighty." 

293. Our Lady's Head. The head of the Virgin Mary. Cf. 
Spenser's '* Faerie Queene," I. vii. 29. 

297. White Horse. The standard of the Saxon chief. 

315, 316. Cf . this estimate of Arthur with that given by Guinevere 
in line 146. The sequel shows which was the truer judgment. 

327. Of manners and of nature. Courtesy, natural and ac- 
quired. 

329-337. Note the aptness of the comparison. Elaine sees in 
Lancelot's face all the beauty arid nobility which she believes exist 
in his character. 

338. Rathe. Early. At one time all three degrees of compari- 
son of the adjective were in use in the language (rathe, rather, 
rathest); but now only the comparative degree remains. Cf. "Lyci- 
das," line 142; ** In Memoriam," cix. 

350. De\iry light. The light of early morning, when the atmos- 
phere is still full of moisture. 

354. Rapt. Carried out of herself, transported. The word is 
often incorrectly derived from the Latin ropere, to seize ; but it is of 
Norse origin, and is the past participle of the verb rap, to carry away. 

356. Wear her favor at the tilt. When a knight was about to 
engage in a tournament, his lady-love was accustomed to bestow 
upon him some token of her regard, such as a knot of ribbon or a 
glove. This the knight wore in a conspicuous place, generally in his 
helmet, while taking part in the mimic warfare. 

357. She braved a riotous heart in asking for it. In spite of 
her heart's tumultuous throbbing, with apparent composure, she pre- 
fers her request. Braved is here used in the sense of defied. 

362. Lists. Ground enclosed for a tournament. Probably de- 
rived through the French from the Latin liciwn, a thread, as the 
open space was most likely roped in. 

377. Unblazoned. Without any device. Cf . line 193. 

382. Squire. A title given to young noblemen who were candi- 
dates for knighthood. They were the attendants of the knights, and 
had the care of their armor. 

397. Companions. Associates. The etymology of the word is 
interesting: from Latin cuirif together, and panis, bread. Hence the 
literal meaning of the word is, those who eat bread together. 



78 TENNYSON. 

406-409. An illustration of Tennyson's minute and faithful ob- 
servation and delineation of natural phenomena. 

Arch-deacon Farrar says: "The poets have made life brighter, 
happier, and more hopeful to us by teaching us to see, and what to 
see, and how to see. A thousand things which we should have never 
noticed, in which we should have never read God's autographs of 
beauty and of blessing, Tennyson has now taught us to observe with 
delight and love." 

410. Bode. Waited, remained. A.,S. bidan, to wait. 

415. Lancelot of the Lake. Cf . line 4. 

422. Pendragon. The title which King Arthur inherited from 
his reputed father, Uther Pendragon, or Dragon's Head. A surname 
derived from the golden dragon which Uther adopted as his crest. 
The dragon or serpent symbolized sovereignty. 

423. Of whom the people talk mysteriously. Gf. "The 
Coming of Arthur '* for the conflicting stories concerning the king's 
parentage. Sir Bedivere thus bluntly states the motives that inspire 
his detractors : — 

*' For there be those who hate him in their hearts, 
Call him baseborn, and since his ways are sweet, 
And theirs are bestial, hold him less than man." 

430. The clear-faced King. The modifier may be interpreted 
literally as referring to the fair complexion of the king ; for in ' ' The 
Last Tournament * ' Arthur is described thus : — 

" His hair, a sun that ray'd from off a brow 
Like hillsnow high in heaven, the steel-blue eyes. 
The golden beard that clothed his lips with light." 

It is probable, however, that the phrase has a subtler meaning, and 
may signify that frank, open expression which would be character- 
istic of — 

" A King who honors his own word 

As if it were his God's." 

431. Samite. Rich silken stuff, generally interwoven or em- 
broidered with gold. 

441-442. Cf. lines 34-65. 

447-450. Lancelot's epigram has a parallel in St. Augustine's 
well-known words : ** The sufficiency of my merit is to know that my 
merit is not sufficient." The true nobility of Lancelot's character 
is shown in his willingness to recognize merit in another. 



NOTES ON ELAINE. 79 

456. Shock. Collide. 

471-473. Cf. 11. 364-366. 

480-484. Note the beauty and vividness of simile. It is one of 
the ** faint Homeric echoes " in which the Idylls abound. 

484. Him that helms it. The one that steers or directs the 
bark or boat. 

494. Holpen. Old form of the past participle of the verb to 
help. 

503-505. Note peculiar construction: the nouns diamond and 
prize are used with the value of verbs in the imperative mode. The 
line may be paraphrased thus: "Talk not to me of diamonds or 
prizes." 

520. World's rumor. Noise, gossip. Latin rumor, a noise, a 
murmur. 

524. Utmost. Farthest, most remote. 

525. Marches. A. S. mearc, a mark, a boundary. By a species 
of metonymy the word came to mean the land within the boundary. 

530, 531. An ellipsis which may be supplied by some such phrase 
as " Should perish thus." 

547-549. The diamond blazing in the carven flower suggests a 
beautiful simile in Tennyson's *' Maud : " — 

" Maud's own little oak-room 
Which Maud, like a precious stone 
Set in the heart of the carven gloom, 
Lights with herself." 

552. In the mid might and flourish of his May. In the 

prime of youthful vigor. 

556. Sir Modred. A nephew of the king. He afterward proved 
traitor to him ; and it was in quelling an insurrection led by Modred 
that Arthur received the ** grievous wound " referred to in " Morte 
D'Arthur," 1. 264. 

596. Kith. Kindred. A noun made from the A. S. verb cunnaUf 
to know, and signifying those well-known to us. 

652. Falcon. A bird of prey which has a short, hooked beak, 
and powerful claws. It was trained to hunt birds and other game. 
Falconry was a favorite amusement with the kings and nobles of the 
Middle Ages. 

657. An ye will it. An is used by Shakespeare and writers of 
his time with the value of the conj. if. It is really the imperative of 
A. S. unnan, to grant, to give. 



80 ' TUNNYSON. 

681. With one I may not name. Gawain evidently wishes to 
excite Elaine's curiosity, but his insinuations fall meaningless upon 
her pure mind. 

Cf . 707 and 713. Gawain's smooth excuse for a breach of trust 
justly angers the king. His curt reproof, " Obedience is the courtesy 
due to kings," is similar to one given Sir Bedivere in "Morte 
D'Arthur:" *' Authority forgets a dying king." Elaine recognizes 
Gawain's faithlessness, as is evidenced by her speech in lines 756, 
757. Liege. Lord of a free band. 

715. Strokes of the blood. Pulse-beats. 

728. Marred her :fi*iend's point. Frustrated the gossip's pur- 
pose to surprise her into self-betrayal. 

735-739. The queen, almost choking with suppressed emotion, 
only by a resolute will preserves an external calm. Malory says : — 

*' Wit ye well, inwardly, as the book saith, she took great thought; but 
she bare it out with a proud countenance, as though she felt nothing nor 
danger." 

761-763. A beautiful phrasing of the true mission of woman. 
Non ministrari, sed ministrare. 

769, 770. Cf. Laertes' advice to Ophelia. " Hamlet, Act I. 
Scene iii. 

794. Being in his moods. Cf. this description of Sir Torre with 
that of Lavaine, beginning line 786. Tennyson delineates very clearly 
the differing characters of Torre and Lavaine. 

795, 796. Cf. the description of the mystical carved gateway of 
Camelot, as given in detail in the Idyll of " Garette and Lynette." 

798. Far blood. Distant relatives. 

831. Blazed is the past tense of blazon, to display conspicuously. 
It is here used with a suggestion of its heraldic signification. Cf. 
line 9. 

844. Either twilight. Early dawn, or the dusk of evening. 

871, 872. Note Tennyson's fondness for epigram. Lancelot feels 
himself bound in honor to a course of action which his conscience 
tells him is dishonorable ; for fidelity to the queen is disloyalty to the 
king. 

875. The facility with which men break good resolutions made 
when under the fear of death is proverbial. 

898. Burthen. The refrain of a song. A rarely beautiful simile 
in the preceding lines. 



NOTES ON ELAINE. * 81 

912. I can. I am able to do what I will. A. S. Cunnan^ to 
know, to be able. 

923. "That I live to hear is yours." '* It is due to your care 
that I am alive to-day to hear you." Cf. line 860. 

938. Blare. Roar, noise. Meaning here to publish abroad, as 
with a trumpet. 

944. Love's first flash in youth. Shakespeare compares first 
love to " A violet in the youth of primy nature, forward, not perma- 
nent; sweet, not lasting." 

956. In all your quarrels. Arthur required the Knights of the 
Round Table to pledge themselves to *' ride abroad, redressing human 
wrongs;" and the Knight of Chivalry was accustomed to devote 
himself to the service of some one fair lady. 

984. Empty labor. Metonymy. The effort expended in making 
the case stands for the case itself. 

995. Sallow-rifted glooms. The twilight sky, streaked with 
bands of yellow light. 

1012. Scaled. Ran up the musical scale; that is, grew shriller. 

1015. Phantom of the house. This corresponds to the Celtic 
*' Banshee," which is, according to Lord Macaulay, " A supernatural 
being, supposed by the Irish and Scotch peasantry to give notice to 
a family of the speedy death of some of its members, by chanting a 
mournful air under the window of the house." 

1018-1024. The simile is based upon a common experience. 

1059-1065. The character of Sir Torre is well sustained through- 
out. Beneath his seeming brusqueness is concealed a tender affection 
for his little sister, and a determination to defend the honor of his 
house. Lines 229, 230, would seem to indicate that he distrusted 
Lancelot from the first. 

1082. One of Tennyson's epigrammatic gems. A character so 
negative as not to excite animosity will scarcely inspire warm 
affection. 

1084-1087. Elaine's pathetic words are similar in sentiment to 
Schiller's ** Maiden's Lament : " — 

*• Ich habe genossen das irdische Gliick, 
Ich habe gelebt und geliebet! " 

1092. Ghostly man. The priest, the spiritual adviser. From 
A. S. gdsty the spirit, the soul,. 

1117-1119. Suffering has rapidly matured the timid, shrinking 



82 TENNYSON. 

maiden into a woman who feels that *' true love, tho' given in vain," 
is worthy of respect. 

1125. Fantasy. Cf. line 396. 

1130. Brake from underground. The sun rose above the 
horizon. 

1135. Pall'd. A verb made from the noun pall, a large black 
cloth thrown over a coffin at a funeral. 

1146, 1147. Among the most impressive lines of the entire poem. 

1158. Note the shade of difference in the meaning of hard and 
hardly. 

1169. What causes the courtier's amusement ? 

1178-1181. It seems to Lancelot almost profanation to have spoken 
so freely of the queen's charms; but he pleads that the same indul- 
gence be given to his emotion as is granted to grief. 

1178. Cygnet. A young swan. The adult swan, of both sexes, 
is pure white, with a reddish bill; the young cygnets have dark 
bluish-gray plumage and lead-colored bill. The passage would seem 
to mean that Guinevere's neck was so fair that it would make the 
plumage on the neck of the mother-swan seem, in comparison, darker 
than that of her young. 

1184. Rumors flying. Lancelot fears that the queen has heard 
the gossip which connects his name with the maid of Astolat. He 
reasons that, as the tie which binds them is a voluntary one, their 
trust in each other should be the more implicit. 

1204. Cf . with 121-135. 

1207. This sentiment is paralleled in Shakespeare's lines; 
** Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind." 

1215. Cannot speak my mind, 

I must act courteously, however much you provoke me. 

1237-1235. The diamonds which the queen, in jealous wrath, 
flings into the river, seem almost to become an offering to the spirit 
of the dead maiden. Cf. line 213. 

1235. Like a star in blackest night. Expand this figure into 
its literal meaning. 

1243-1245. Like, for instance, the Great Stone Face in the White 
Mountains of New Hampshire. 

1250. ** The belief that Arthur will come again is still prevalent 
among the country-folk of Brittany ; and in Cornwall it is supposed 



NOTES ON ELAINE. 83 

that his spirit now dwells in a raven. The mediaeval notion is that, 
like Charlemagne, Barbaroso, Tell, and other heroes, he is sleeping 
the sleep in a cavern amid his knights in full armor, waiting for the 
time when he shall come again." Malory says that many believe 
that there is the following inscription on his tomb: ** Hie jacet 
Arthurus, Rex quondam Rexque futurus: " — 

1254. A very pathetic picture of mute sorrow. 

1259-1263. Cf. lines 1047-1054. Lancelot's musing recalls the 
closing lines of the **Lady of Shalott: '* — 

" But Lancelot mused a little space; 
He said, * She has a lovely face; 
God in his mercy lend her grace, 
The Lady of Shalott.'" 

1284-1285. A love superior to that of the queen, in that it was 
purely unselfish. 

1286. This line is an epigrammatic putting of Lancelot's explana- 
tion of his indifference toward Elaine, as given in Malory's xxiii. 
book : — 

*' Then said Sir Lancelot, * I love not to be constrained to love; for love 
must arise of the heart, and not by no constraint! ' * That is truth,' said the 
king, and many knights : * love is free in himself, and never will be bounden ; 
for where he is bounden he loseth himself.' " 

Cf . line 1369. 

1299. What is the figure ? In what does the resemblance consist ? 

1316. Worship. Worthship, meaning honor. 

1342. Again Tennyson follows Malory's version very closely. 
" * This is not the first time,' said Sir Lancelot, * that you have been 
displeased with me, causeless; but, madam, ever I must suffer you, 
but what sorrow I endure I take no force.' " 

1353. The king's love and confidence only intensify Lancelot's 
remorse, as is seen in lines 1408, 1409. 

1386. Farewell too — now at last. What is the hidden mean- 
ing in at last f 

1389. May be paraphrased thus : — 

Is not the feeling rather jealous pride, which shows that true 
love is dead ? 

1390. Crescent. Increasing, growing. Latin creseerey to increase. 
1394-1400. Compare with note on line 4. 



84 TENNYSON. 

1400. Mere. An A. S. word meaning a lake. Allied to the 
Latin marej a sea; retained in our word mermaid. 

1418. In Sir Thomas Malory's ** Morte Darthur," the death of 
Lancelot in the odor of sanctity is described in detail. The closing 
lines of this Idyll are based upon the following quaint passage : ** But 
God knoweth his thought and his unstableness; and yet shall he die 
right, an holy man." Book XVI. Chapter v. 



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